


Little Robot Child

by Anonymous



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alphabet Meme, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Sex, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, Incidental Komaeda/Hinata, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Master/Pet, Pre-Despair, Sexual Content, Smut and Angst, Teacher-Student Relationship, Trans Character, Watersports, implied self harm, sorry mum sorry god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:05:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 31,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1733825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hinata doesn't know why the headmaster pays attention to him, of all people - why he, among all the prodigies, has promise. Has 'potential'.</p><p>He doesn't know, but he isn't complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A is for Admiration

   The assembly starts at ten because they come second.

   Nobody says it because nobody has to. They sit in their registration classroom for two hours, all but a few too anxious to make introductions. Hinata is among them.

   He can't stop touching his uniform. The fine silk of his tie, first-year crimson, and the supple leather of his satchel, handmade and too elegant to only carry books and folders. This is covered by tuition. It's worth it for the fine fitting blazer, the pride of wearing the Hope's Peak crest.

   He doesn't know, yet, if it's worth the looks the teachers give him as they cross the campus to the main building, where the big auditorium is, the only one large enough to hold the reserve students. He doesn't know if it's worth being told, in the most unconvincing tone, by the deputy headmaster in her speech that yes, they too are a vital part of the Hope's Peak machine - that they, through hard work and perseverance, will graduate from the most prestigious high school in the country, will have their lives on a silver platter as soon as they take that diploma home.

   It isn't until Headmaster Kirigiri steps up to the stage that he even realises she's finished speaking.

 

-

 

   "Hinata."

   Headmaster Kirigiri nods curly when he enters the room on trembling legs. Not even one day into term and he's already been pulled up for something - some uniform problem, according to his English teacher, and although she didn't elaborate any more than that, he knows full and well what the 'problem' is before he even sits down.

   He sits down anyway.

   The office is the grandest Hinata has ever seen; the desk is huge, but not huge enough to undermine the man who sits behind it, his steady gaze fixed in Hinata's face, set into a gentle, encouraging smile that almost makes him forget the trouble he's in. The desk has two chairs on his side, both plush armchairs lined with leather. Hinata lowers himself into one, trying and failing not to show the anxiety that threatens to swallow him whole.  

   Headmaster Kirigiri has his wrists resting on the table, fingers steepled, his expression one of collected curiosity. "Your teacher sent you here about a uniform code violation?"

   "Yes." Hinata says the word quiet, through gritted teeth. He softens his voice when he adds, "Sir." 

   "Hm." The headmasters looks him over, and Hinata feels his cheeks grow hot beneath the man's gaze. He then looks down at the papers on his desk; Hinata's file, undoubtedly. He squeezes eyes shut, swallows hard, waiting.

   "Could you stand up for me?"

   Hinata's eyes snap open and Headmaster Kirigiri still has that exact same look on his face. Not disgust, not irritation. Not anything Hinata is used to. Stumbling a little, he gets to his feet and takes a few steps back from the desk, hands by his sides, letting himself be examined. The headmaster nods, one eyebrow raised.

   "Turn around?"

   Hinata's face colours even more as he obeys, but luckily the headmaster doesn't make him stay like that for long. He clears his throat, and Hinata turns back to him, finding him already gesturing to the armchair. Hesitantly, he sits. Every nerve in him screams for him to close his eyes against the inevitable lecture, but he holds firm, ready to stand his ground if he finds himself backed into a corner.

   He won't run. He won't cry. He won't let himself be walked over, no matter how intimidating this man is or how prestigious his school is, no matter how much his parents paid for him to be here.

   Not this time.

   "Well, everything seems to be in accordance with the dress code." Headmaster Kirigiri gathers the papers up in his hands, flipping them horizontal and bumping the bottom of the pile against the desk a few times, neatening it. "I'll contact your teachers and let them know not to send you up here for uniform checks. Don't take that as permission to show up in jeans and a t-shirt though," he adds with a smirk that had Hinata glowing positively crimson.

   "W-wait, really?" He doesn't get up, even though he's clearly excused. Without thinking, he exhales hard, shaky from the relief of it.

   "Absolutely." Headmaster Kirigiri's tone is so much warmer than it was up on stage. Firm, but respectful. "I apologize for not sorting this out beforehand. I assure you, you won't have to worry about this from now on."

   Finally, Hinata pulls himself together and stands a final time. Quickly, he nods, unable to speak through the dryness of his throat. The Headmaster seems to understand.

   To Hinata's immense surprise, he stands as well. He's tall, taller than Hinata by a few inches, but it's barely noticable from the other side of the desk. He extends his hand, and Hinata stares at it for a moment before reaching out, tentatively, to respond with the steadiest handshake he can muster.

   "Thank you for your time, Hinata," he says, and then his touch is gone and Hinata isn't sure he's ever felt so reluctant to leave a headmaster's office in his life.

 


	2. B is for Bandages

 

   It's hard to tell when the infatuation starts.

   He sees the headmaster once in a blue moon, because his office is in the main building and Hinata has his classes on the other side of the campus, and god if he doesn't sometimes consider back-talking a teacher or smashing in a window just so he'll get another audience with the man.

   He doesn't consider what he'd do after that. Crushes are always like this; the meaningless plotting, the pondering, the elaborate schemes thought up in the mind only to fizzle when he sees Headmaster Kirigiri in the hallway and his plans disintegrate to feed the butterflies in his stomach.

   But that just makes it even better. Even sweeter when he finds himself in the main building for whatever reason. He practically knocks his desk over in his eagerness to volunteer as a messenger, while the others sulk, already set in resenting the prodigies - well, Hinata couldn't care less about them. He lingers just too long outside the office when he passes it, pretending to adjust his tie or fix his shoelaces.

   When Headmaster Kirigiri sees him, he only nods his acknowledgement and says, "Hinata."

   And Hinata walks back to class, giddy, and wonders why he ever paid attention to high school boys.

  
-

  
   There's a picture of Jin Kirigiri on the school website. Hinata saves it to his desktop.

   As an afterthought, he saves it to his phone as well. 

  
-

   
   Hinata has smashed the full length mirror in his bedroom more times than he can count. He uses his fists, most of the time; just one punch has shards of glass embedded in his knuckles that he has to pick out with tweezers, biting back tears and wondering why he doesn't just turn the stupid thing around.

   He cleans the bloodstains up, ignoring his reflection. He bandages his hand and figures he'll tell his parents he got in a fight, with a bully, and won, because that's realistic. He has a stash for things like this. Gauze and bandage for every time he hits whatever he hits, and he knows, every time, that he won't turn the mirror around.

 


	3. C is for Classroom

   Hinata just about has a heart attack when his headmaster walks into his geography classroom, adjusting his tie at the knot, folders in his hands. He doesn't even look in Hinata's direction while he sorts his things out, looking for all the world like he actually belongs there - of course, Hinata scolds himself for being so stupid, he _is_ a teacher, with a degree, for teaching. He sits up straighter as Headmaster Kirigiri clears his throat and introduces himself, commanding the attention of the class. It's like he doesn't even have to try. They respect him. His status and demeanour commands it.

   Hinata kicks at the metal beam connecting the legs of his desk and curses himself for sitting so close to the back. He wants to be front and centre today. He wants to smile bright and raise his hand and be noticed for the wit that seeps into his answers.

   But he can't just get up and move, so he settles for concentrating hard, listening attentively to every word Headmaster Kirigiri says about the Amazon rainforest and trying to focus on the board.

   Trying being the operative word.

   It's hard to be a good student with a teacher like this. He can't help admiring the way Headmaster Kirigiri's suit is fitted perfectly to his body, and what a body it is; even through dark fabric, Hinata can tell that there are firm muscles beneath it. When he turns to write on the whiteboard, Hinata lets his eyes slide from the delicate jut of his shoulderblades to his ass, pert and perfectly accentuated by his well-fitting trousers.

   It sends a dirty thrill through him to be ogling his teacher like this. Like he's a piece of meat and not a superior; though Hinata doesn't forget for even a second that he is, and that he is being thoroughly disrespectful, and that's the kind of behaviour that should be reprimanded-

   He feels a pulse between his legs and squeezes his thighs closed, his eyes falling shut, willing the thoughts away. It's only first period. He knows full and well that once he gets worked up, it takes a lot to make it go away - usually, an entire night's sleep.

   But all it takes is opening his eyes and registering that Headmaster Kirigiri is looking /right at him/ to prompt another warm pulse. And another.

   "Is everything alright, Hinata?"

   All heads turn. Hinata nods, numbly, his eyes wide and feigning innocence. "Yes, Headmaster Kirigiri, sir," he says, ducking his head to examine his textbook. He feels his teacher's eyes linger on him for another moment before his attention is taken by something else and Hinata is left, once again, with his private issue still going strong and no way to deal with it.

   He doesn't know what the hell has gotten into him. He has a healthy libido for a guy his age, sure, but this? Never before has he found himself in class, probably soaking through his underwear just because someone looked at him. Because a _teacher_ looked at him. It's disgusting, this neediness. His cheeks are burning hot, and he's sure that everyone noticed the blush. Maybe Headmaster Kirigiri did, too.

   Hinata scans the room. Everyone has their heads down, working, writing. Headmaster Kirigiri is at the desk, tapping away at the computer. Probably taking registration. Most importantly, nobody is looking at him as he leans back in his chair, nonchalant, and slides a hand down beneath his desk, pretending to scratch his knee. He lingers there for a moment before easing it up, slowly and slyly, until his fingertips are pushing right at the waistband of his uniform trousers. With one fluid movement, he slips his hand beneath, over his underwear.

   He knows he won't get off like this, but he needs the relief. It's just a little harmless touching.

   He teases his fingers down, avoiding his clit for his own sake and instead brushing them over the pronounced wet spot a little further down. God, it's awful, the way his briefs are sticking to him, tacky with come at eight thirty in the morning. He's so wet he can feel everything through the fabric.

   He hopes the embarrassment isn't too evident on his face as he swivels his gaze to the ceiling and moves the pressure up, circling his clit, brushing oh so gently against it before his thighs twitch and, abruptly, he stops, pulls his hand out and comes back down to earth again.

   Still, Headmaster Kirigiri isn't looking at him.

   Shame flares in Hinata's stomach when he realises that he isn't happy about that.

 

 


	4. D is for Desperate

   It's a little game he likes to play.

   He has a test fifth period, so he drinks a full bottle of water and break and then another through lunch, downing it in between poring over his notebooks in the corner of the student lounge, and hopes nobody will notice he's already a little uncomfortable, wriggling slightly in his seat every other minute.

   Five minutes into the test and he knows this was a mistake.

   Not being able to leave is part of the allure, but this time he thinks he might have actually pushed it too far. He keeps his head down, fighting the little convulsions that ripple through his legs and shoulders, the feeling of his body unravelling, drawing ever closer to the edge.

   It's good in a way he can't describe. White hot and urgent, the way he imagines a vibrator might feel, making him twitch and shudder and bite down on the inside of his mouth to keep it together. He can't focus on anything else; not words or numbers, nothing but not losing it right there at this desk. He clamps his thighs together and scribbles just anything. Thirty minutes in, he shoves a hand between his legs, not caring who sees, pressing hard, warding it off.

   He hands his paper in early and just about flies out of the class. Without the steady pressure of his hand, it's even worse now. His mind is blank but for the pulsing drum of need, need, need as he half-runs down the corridor, past all the identical classrooms, hoping to whatever god there is that nobody decides to pull him up for it, because if so he'll probably piss himself right there in the hallway, and then he'll be written up and standing before Headmaster Kirigiri, soaked and humiliated-

   "Hinata!"

   He stops in his tracks, the familiar voice sending twin chills of joy and dread through him. Slowly, jerkily, he turns around.

   Sure enough, the Headmaster is there. He takes big strides, casual and confident, over to where Hinata is dumbstruck, and then stops right in front of him. "It's been a while since I've seen you. How are you liking your classes?"

   "Oh, they're good! I'm in physics now, um, we just had a test," Hinata babbles, twisting at the waist slightly, swaying and trying to keep his body in motion as it commands.

   Headmaster Kirigiri just keeps that cordial smile, like he doesn't even notice. "How did it go?"

   "Good, I think. I probably passed."

   "'Probably'." Headmaster Kirigiri gives a little laugh under his breath; a laugh Hinata has never heard before, genuine and not that scripted booming thing. "Well, that's good to hear." Hinata's heart stops in his chest when Headmaster Kirigiri claps a hand down on his shoulder, and sobers. "I suppose you haven't had any more trouble with your English teacher, hm?"

   "N-no." Hinata gives his best thankful smile. Other than said English teacher blatantly giving his chest area the once over once he returned to class and told her that, no, there was no problem with his clothes, and yes, Headmaster Kirigiri was sure - other than that, everything had gone smoothly, and Hinata knows exactly who is responsible for that. "

   "Have you thought about club activities?" he says idly. "One of our students from the main campus is talking about coaching a tennis club, if that interests you. You look like you'd be athletic."

   Hinata's face grows flushed with the observation. The _compliment_? He shifts from one foot to the other, resisting the urge to cross his legs. "That sounds great." Rain is pelting the outside windows and it's all he can hear - rain and the imaginary slosh of his bladder, and the ringing in his ears because Headmaster Kirigiri is still looking at him, still has his hand on his shoulder and it would be so rude to shrug it off. "Thank you, for the recommendation."

   "No problem." Headmaster Kirigiri lingers for just a moment longer, just looking Hinata over. His blush deepens as he feels the man's gaze sweep from his eyes over the freckled bridge of his nose, down the tension in his neck. And then it's over, and the weight of his hand is finally gone. The headmaster takes a step back, and smiles. "It was good talking to you, Hinata. If you have any problems..."

   "Thank you," Hinata says again, but Headmaster Kirigiri is already walking away, a few paces down the hall and through the door of a classroom. "Thanks," he repeats, weakly, slumping against the wall. He takes a moment to collect himself before he remembers what he was doing here in the first place, and that the burn in his abdomen needs to be taken care of _now_.

   He runs the rest of the way to the bathroom, no longer caring about the consequences. He's teased himself a million times, but never has he actually lost control. Not in his teenage years, anyway, and he doesn't want to start now - not _today_ , not halfway through his damn physics class, _at school_ , in the hall with the headmaster nearby, inexplicably hanging around the reserve building again-

   He flings open the bathroom door and locks himself in one of the stalls, just about ripping his trousers in his effort to get them down and out of the way. He sits, and just about sobs with relief as the pressure finally abates, his breathing ragged, hands fisted in his hair as his shoulders sag and he nearly goes boneless.

   This has to be how an orgasm feels, he thinks. This is probably exactly how it feels, because nothing compares to the calm that washes over him when he finally stops holding and lets it go.

 

 


	5. E is for Elusive

 

   If Hinata kept a journal of this sort of thing, this would be somewhere near the seven hundredth attempt.

   But he doesn't.

   That would be strange.

   

   He lies back on his bed, naked from the waist down, and tries to relax. His legs are spread as open as far they go, knees up, heels on the mattress, and he doesn't look down. He keeps his eyes on the ceiling. He always does.

   He's tried everything by now. On his front, on his back, over his underwear, over his _jeans,_ in the shower, in the bath, on the couch - with porn, erotica, even hentai, once - going all combinations of hard, soft, slow, fast, gentle, rough. He's read a myriad of advice from pink-and-black blogs and pink-and-white magazines, ' _here's how to get the best orgasm, girls!_ '. He grits his teeth and does as they say.

   Here, on his back, he does it again.

   Businesslike, he places the pads of two fingers over his clit. He presses down on it experimentally, checking he really has the right spot. The little shiver of pleasure informs him that he does.

   He blinks at the ceiling. Okay. Good start.

   He swallows the flutter of nerves that threaten to crawl up and out of him. Every advice blog says a circular motion is the way to go, no matter how much it hurts his wrist; so he starts, rubbing in small circles, and his toes curl and his head falls back against the pillow. A happy little sigh escapes his lips, but the nerves remain.

   When it starts to get intense, he dips his fingers down between his folds, swiping them gingerly over his entrance. There's a little wetness there, but not much. He gathers what he can on his fingertips and returns his attentions to his clit again. The slide is smoother this time, and he feels warmth spreading low in his stomach. He closes his eyes. He needs to think.

   Small circles. His mind is blank. His thoughts drift, idly, to a few students in his class, unsure of where else to go. The boys in his gym class who take their shirts off like it's nothing. Small circles. The girls who don't wear shorts beneath their skirts and expose themselves whenever they bend over or find their hands full, and it's hot to think about but physically, it isn't doing much.

   He rubs faster, harder, but the harder he goes the more the sensation dims until the pleasant numbness has all but disappeared and when he takes his hand away, he doesn't miss the touch.

   It isn't all that surprising.

   He scrambles for his phone, clumsy. He leaves obscene streaks across the screen as he hurriedly opens his browser and puts on whatever he watched last time. It's a lesbian scene, paused half-way through where he stopped after watching it at least ten times on his last attempt; he mutes the video and hits play, and tries to focus on the action, how one girl's thighs are shaking and even though he can't hear her moans, he can see them, her body trembling with pleasure.

   He reaches down to touch himself again. The wetness that was there before has disappeared; he's dryer than the Sahara desert now, but it's fine. It's friction.

   Small circles, small circles, small circles. His wrist really is starting to hurt now. His fingers feel numb, raw from the prickle of his pubic hair.

   He wonders what's for dinner tonight.

   The girl in the video comes all too soon, real and stuttering, while he isn't even close. Somehow he feels even less close than when he started. He lets his phone fall to the ground and turns, onto his front, and buries his face in his pillow and screams.

 


	6. F is for Fireworks

_Monday;_

  
   Alone in the school computer lab, Hinata does a quick google search to see if sexual frustration can lead to complete and total insanity.

   Apparently, it can't, but he isn't so sure.

   He wonders, fleetingly, if the school will pay back his tuition if they expel him. But this isn't illegal, this isn't _wrong_  - he's just a confused kid, seeking out the help of a trusted adult who just happens to not be a parent or a doctor or a friend, but his smoking-hot and oh-so-sympathetic headmaster.

   He practises his wide-eyed gaze in the mirror. Ducks his head and looks at himself from beneath his dark eyelashes. Toys with his tie, wrapping the silk around his finger, biting his bottom lip until it's bruised pink.

   And who could expel a face like that?

  
-

  
   "Headmaster."

   Hinata sits in that big plush leather chair again, staring down at his own lap. His hands are clasped, knuckles white.

   He's been shaking since he wandered into the main building and asked the red-lipsticked secretary for an appointment. He sat in the waiting area for what felt like hours, watching parents and admin staff and students he'd never seen before come and go before his name was finally called.

   He spent the time going over and over the plan in his head. Crafting every word and phrase in such a way that if he was caught out, _accused_ , then he could backtrack into making it a misunderstanding. His strategy, if it can really be called that, is to ramble. Talk and talk and slip in as many inappropriate terms as it takes for the headmaster to understand, and, hopefully, respond.

   And if it doesn't work, well, he'll just go back to his pathetic, frustrated life and try not to imagine what could have been.

   "It's alright," Headmaster Kirigiri says, so kindly that Hinata almost feels bad about taking advantage of his nature like this. Almost. "You can talk to me, Hinata. I promise, whatever you say will be just between the two of us."

   "It's just, you said I could come to you if I ever had any problems..." Hinata trails off, raising his head, schooling his face into the picture of innocence. "I wasn't sure who else to talk to, you know?"

   The headmaster raises his eyebrows, but says nothing, letting Hinata continue.

   "It's sort of a personal issue," he begins, and the anxiety in his voice isn't forced. "Kind of nerve-wracking to go to a doctor, and all, considering..." he shrugs, eyes cast down again. "And you're certified to teach biology, right?"

   "It... might be more appropriate for you talk to a guidance counsellor about this," Headmaster Kirigiri says in lieu of an answer. His voice is soft, considerate.

   Hinata doesn't miss a beat. "I'd rather talk to you."

   "Alright."

   He takes a deep breath. This is it. He rehearsed this, too - the winding trail of conversation, dropping hints, _flirting_ more blatantly than he's ever done before. He can be seductive. Why not?

   He squeezes his eyes shut, gathering his nerve.

   "I..."

_...am very mature for my age, you see..._

_...face a very unique set of circumstances, as you know..._

_...am in need of assistance from someone with experience like yours..._

   "I can't climax." Hinata blurts the words out, the blood immediately rushing to his face and the embarrassment pounding through every nerve in him. He opens his eyes again and finds the headmaster just staring at him. His usual veneer of calm is thoroughly cracked - he looks startled. Maybe even shocked.

   After what seems like an eternity, he says, "I see."

  "Yeah." Hinata lets the silence hang. It's not too late to just get up and leave, and somehow try to claim that he didn't actually say what he just said. If only he was manipulative enough to manage gaslighting on that scale. But the headmaster still hasn't said no to what he's obviously asking.

   At least, he hopes it's obvious. At the very least, it's about a million more times obvious than it was supposed to be.

   So much for the plan.

   Headmaster Kirigri leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk. He lowers his voice, though there's no way anyone can hear anything through that heavy wooden door. "And you're sure don't want to see the nurse?"

   Hinata almost laughs thinking about it. Imagining himself, just waltzing right into the nurses' office, _'hello, serve me up one of your greatest orgasms, please_ '. "I don't think a nurse is what I need."

   "Well. I have to say, it's been a while since I've done any private tutoring. But if you think you really need it, I'm here in my office for a while after school on Wednesdays, if you want to drop by."

   He just about throws up with joy.

   The headmaster shakes his hand at the door, and Hinata can't help noticing how thick his fingers are in comparison to his own. How warm his skin is. "You don't work your way to a position like mine without taking the challenges that are offered to you, Hinata," he says. "Remember that."

 

  
 _Tuesday;_

  
   He runs a bath in the evening. It's not the manliest thing he's ever done; the counters are littered with flickering candles that he stole from his parents' room, the lights dimmed. He drops his favourite avocado bath bomb in when the tub is full and perfect, and watches it bubble and fizz while he undresses. He lines his supplies up on the edge; shampoo, conditioner, body wash, shaving cream, razor.

   The water swallows him up, hot and soothing.

   It's entirely possible that he's misinterpreting the situation. For all he knows, Headmaster Kirigiri could take him into that office tomorrow afternoon, bring out a textbook, and spent the next hour explaining where the clitoris is. That would still be pretty hot, though. A little clinical, maybe, but at least he'd have the memory of the headmaster's voice in his head forever, saying vaguely dirty words over and over again.

   And if it went _really_ well, he could always ask for a hands-on demonstration.

 

  
 _Wednesday;_

  
   Headmaster Kirigiri takes his geography class again in the morning.

   At lunch, Hinata locks himself in a bathroom stall and shoves his trousers down to his ankles, underwear along with them. He props himself against the wall and drags three fingers over his vulva, shivering at how sensitive he is, how absolutely drenched he gets just being in the same damn room as the headmaster. He covers his eyes with his forearm and keeps touching, enjoying the brand new softness.

   He can't help smiling to himself. Wouldn't it just be so ironic if, after all that, he came for the first time right here, just hours before he's due to meet with the object of his affections? If he got so worked up thinking about getting off that he just - did?

   When the bell rings, he's shaky but still unsated. He redresses himself with a sigh, washes his hands, and goes back to class more jittery than he's ever felt in his life.

 

   He knocks on the door twenty minutes after final bell. The headmaster calls him inside, casual, and Hinata closes the door behind him.

   The first thing he notices is that the picture frames on the desk are face-down.

   Hinata sits down in the usual chair, playing with the hem of his blazer, waiting for Headmaster Kirigiri to stop tapping away at his keyboard. His brow is creased in focus, violet eyes sharp, and it's hard not to stare. When at last he finishes what he's going, he looks up with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

   "What am I supposed to do when you're all the way over there?" he says, and it takes a moment for Hinata to realise he's not joking.

  
-

  
   "What happened to your hand?"

   "Got in a fight," Hinata mumbles, flinching when Headmaster Kirigiri brushes his thumb lightly over the bandages. He's sitting on the man's lap, actually _on_  his lap, facing the desk, and it feels ridiculous because Hinata is too tall and his limbs are too long for such a childish arrangement. But with his knees over the armrests and the headmaster's hand stroking over his exposed lower stomach where his shirt has ridden up, it's hard to care.

   He hums lightly against Hinata's hair. "You don't seem like the type to get into fights. Is this okay?" he asks, settling his hand over Hinata's pubic mound, on top of his underwear, not moving, just resting.

   Hinata breathes out sharp, lets his eyes fall closed. "Yeah."

   "Underneath?"

   Hinata nods, shakily. "Yeah," he says again, choking on a breath when Headmaster Kirigri immediately withdraws and then replaces his hand, fingers teasing just below the waistband of his boxers for a moment before sliding oh-so-slowly down.

   Hinata closes his eyes, wanting to kill all his senses but touch as the headmaster separates two fingers and smooths them over his labia, deliberately avoiding his clit. "Don't move your hips," he says, low and commanding. "Just trust me."

   It's so foreign, the feeling of someone else touching him in a place where, at times, he convinced himself that nobody ever would. Headmaster Kirigiri is careful, even when his movements are constricted by clothing. He drags his fingers back up, edging closer and closer to where Hinata really wants them.

   Once he starts, he doesn't mess around.

   It's like jolts of electricity that Hinata has never produced on his own; probably never could. There's no teasing; Headmaster Kirigiri moves his fingers at an even pace, agonizing, and Hinata counts exactly two little circles a second before his thighs begin to tremble and his mind goes blank and all he can do is put his head back and try not to moan.

   It takes him about five seconds to give up on that last part.

   "Oh, f-fuck," he stammers, mindless. All his energy is going into not jerking his hips up like his body is begging him to, chasing more friction. It's agonizing, the way he can feel the headmaster's erection through two sets of clothes, the bulge pressing right against his ass.

   He doesn't know how long it takes, but it can't be more than ten minutes before his toes curl and his thighs tense and he cries out, incoherent, as the pleasure peaks and then spills over and his vision goes white.

   And this is nothing like he expected.

   He feels Kirigri smile against his neck.

  
-

  
   "I hope you know this isn't a thing for me."

   Hinata is slumped forward against the headmasters body, forehead against his shoulder, breathing in the lavender-lilac scent of what has to be his laundry detergent. It sparks an evil little thrill in him. Maybe his wife picked it out.

   The sunset is casting orange through the windows, but he isn't ready to leave yet.

   "What isn't?" he says, mumbling against the fabric of Kirigiri's suit.

   "With my students." He laughs, and Hinata can sense the tight awkwardness. "I don't exactly... you know."

   Hinata sits up straight, looks him in the eyes. He smiles, loose and genuine. "Well, then, I'm flattered."


	7. G is for Generosity

   "You coach _how_ many teams?"

   Hinata swings by the tennis club the next day, out in the grounds where the late afternoon sun beams down heavy and hot on the students gathered around the court. He's just observing, still in his uniform while the others are in gym clothes.

   "One for every day of the week!" The guy speaking is big - tall and huge around with muscle, and he doesn't exactly have a tennis body but Hinata isn't the least bit shocked that he's into sports. His calves are about as big around as Hinata's hips. He's deep in conversation with a first year girl, shielding her eyes with one hand while squinting up at him. She has to crane her neck.

   Hinata sits on the grass and watches them play in the blistering heat, knees hugged to his chest, and wonders if another extracurricular activity wouldn't hurt.

  
-

 

  
   He finds himself in the main building several times a week. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, Headmaster Kirigiri finds the time to schedule him in through lunch or after school when the place is deserted but for the cleaning staff and the lost first years wandering around trying to find their club rooms.

   Kirigiri kisses him, teaches him how it's done until Hinata feels like quite the little expert. Afterwards, he walks through those wood-pannelled corridors, weak in the knees and bone-tired and exhilarated.

 

  
-

 

  
   It has to be every pervert teacher's wet dream.

   "Hinata, you really don't have to do this," he says, but his voice is strained and Hinata only presses a quick kiss to his lips before shifting off the chair and down onto the floor, between the headmaster's legs.

   He braces himself, hands on the man's thighs. "What if I want to?"

   He can see he's reacting already. There's an obvious bulge in his well-fitting trousers, so prominent that Hinata can make out the exact outline of his dick, pressing against the thin black fabric. It isn't small. The sight sends a jolt of something through him that he can't quite place; heavy in his throat and stomach, making his heart beat double-quick.

   Kirigiri laughs, throaty, but Hinata sees his dick twitch. "Then I guess I can't stop you."

   Hinata pauses, unsure how to start. He can see the zipper just fine, but he isn't quite ready for that. Instead, he leans in and presses his lips to where he thinks the head of his Kirigiri's cock is. The little gasp he gets in response lets him know he was right.

   "You've done so much for me," he mumbles, dragging his thumb over that same spot. Kirigiri's breath seems to stop, and he shifts his thighs wider. Hinata feels fingers carding through his hair and knows he's on the right track. Hands shaky, he finally pops the button and pulls the zipper down, too fast, eyes closed in a wince. He catches himself and opens them just in time to realise that Kirigiri isn't wearing underwear. Through the now-open fly, he can only see flesh.

   And as much as he wants to move, he only stares and stares until something snaps and he jerks backwards and smacks the back of his head against the desk.

   It takes a lot not to cry.

   "Hey." Kirigiri pushes his chair back, giving Hinata room to crawl out from underneath the desk. He does, clutching the back of his head, eyes screwed up in pain and face hot with humiliation as he stands. His vision is too blurry with tears to see it, but he hears the zipper pulled back up and knows it's over.

   "H-h-headmaster-" Hinata attempts, but his voice comes weak and pathetic and he doesn't want to hear it anymore.

   "Call me Jin," he says. His fingertips trail up and down Hinata's bare forearms before he clasps both of the younger boy's hands in his, giving a tight squeeze. "Don't panic, alright?"

   Hinata pulls his hands away, and presses his palm flat against his eyes instead. "Jin..."

   "It's fine."

   "I didn't want to disappoint you."

   "You aren't ready. It's fine." Fingers lock around his wrists and pull his hands away from his face. Hinata blinks. The headmaster's expression is set calm, serious, and all at once he feels like a child in comparison. Kirigiri leans back in his chair, and gestures towards his lap. "Why don't you come sit here and tell me what do you do like?"

 


	8. H is for Holding

   "We have our first game in a couple of weeks. Nidai says I'll probably get to play."

   "Really?" Jin turns the page of his newspaper, his face shielded by it, and Hinata can't read his emotions just from his tone but he thinks he might, _might_ detect a hint of pride.

   "Since we have so few members," Hinata says, by way of explanation.

   He still has his gym clothes on - didn't have time to change, since he'd already kept the headmaster waiting long enough while he went to practice. Not that he minds avoiding the stress of the changing rooms. He wonders if anyone has actually noticed that he always ducks into a stall instead of stripping out by the lockers like the others do.

   The shorts just make him feel more exposed, which is hilarious considering the position he's in. He's sitting in one of the chairs across from the desk, the same one as always; but this time his legs are slung over the armrests, his signature position at this point. It's so that he keeps them open. The headmaster doesn't trust his restraint not to close them when he starts getting uncomfortable.

   He doesn't really understand this pretence of idle conversation.

   To keep him 'distracted', Jin says.

   As if he wants to be distracted.

   He can't stop his hips wiggling, the occasional desperate shudder going through him, the reminder of those two bottles of water he got through during last period and practice. He's pretty sure Jin can just sense it. Gauge his need, how close he's getting. They didn't really talk this through, but Hinata is pretty sure he won't be leaving this room with a full bladder.

   Instinctively, he shivers and presses a hand between his legs. The choked noise of relief he makes has Jin lowering his newspaper instantly, casting a stern look in Hinata's direction, and it doesn't take long for him to withdraw his hand, feeling a tiny trickle of wetness and genuinely not knowing what type of fluid it is. Tears sting his eyes, but he doesn't move.

   "It's starting to hurt," he breathes instead, resting his hands over his lower abdomen. He's all too aware that if he pressed down, he would most likely lose it. And if _Jin_ choose to come over here and apply pressure instead...

   "Not yet." The newspaper is abandoned now. Jin is watching him intently, gaze flicking lazily between Hinata's face and his clothed crotch, just waiting for him to break.

   Hinata claws at the arms of his chair and throws his head back, gritting his teeth.

   Maybe he does want to be distracted, after all.

   "Talk to me, please-" he cuts himself off with a gasp, his hips jerking right up off the chair with the next involuntary spasm, and his legs twitch, his calves hitting the side of the chair in their effort to close.

   "About what?" Jin asks, softly. "How good you look right now?"

   It really does hurt. Urgency pulses low in his stomach, sending little stabs of pain through him, and he's never done this before; never let himself get to the point where he absolutely can't hold it, not even giving himself a choice in making it to the bathroom.

  He doesn't answer. He can't.

   "Because you do, you know. You're all flushed, your thighs are trembling like they do when you're about to-"

   Hinata whines. He can't help it. "Please-"

   He can hear the smile in Jin's voice. "Please what?"

   "Please let me go to the b-bathroom." 

   Whatever pride he was clinging to evaporates with the words, and he feels pressure in his throat, like he's about to cry. This is just instinct taking over - the twitching and the groaning and the tears.

   "Be my guest." Jin gestures towards the door, and Hinata doesn't bother to look where he's pointing. He feels frozen, like any movement could be what pushes him over the edge. He can only look straight ahead, meeting Jin's eyes with his own. "If you want to risk losing it in the hallway."

   "That's not what I meant."

   Jin puts his chin in his hands, and Hinata can tell even he's struggling to say composed. "Then why don't you tell me what you meant?"

   The tears are flowing freely now. Hinata can feel them hot on his face, weakening his voice. "P-please let me..." he swallows, and Jin nods, encouraging him. "Please let me piss myself. Please."

   His voice cracks on the last word and he sobs, and through the blur of tears he sees Jin nod, once, and he's done.

   He never thought it would be so easy.

   His muscles relax without permission from his brain and he feels pleasure and relief rush through every nerve in him, spreading with the warmth that clings to the fabric of his underwear, and then his gym shorts, and then pours audible and obscenely over the leather of the chair, even dripping down onto the floorboards. His eyelashes flutter, and he can hear his own shallow breaths.

   After the last of it trickles out of him, he's afraid to open his eyes.

 


	9. I is for Izuru

   Hinata's parents are rarely home when he gets home from school, so when his mother corners him in the hallway one Friday afternoon, he can only stammer and drop his bag on his own feet like an idiot.

   "I made your favourite," she huffs, and he traipses after her into the kitchen, leaning against the counter while she punches numbers into the microwave. " _Hours_ ago, Hajime, where have you been?"

   Hinata does his best to sound nonchalant. Honest. Definitely not a person who just had his maybe tenth or eleventh orgasm sitting on his headmaster's desk not even an hour ago. "Tennis."

   "It's seven o'clock." She spins on her heel, fixing him with the most withering look he's ever seen. "Don't they lock the school up at six?"

    _Yes_ , he thinks. _It just so happens I know somebody with a key._

   He shrugs, taking a bread roll from the almost-empty basket, left over from the meal he missed. "There was a problem with the train."

   "You could have answered your phone, you know." She narrows her eyes in a way that makes it clear she doesn't believe him at all. "Are you seeing someone?"

   He just about chokes on his bread roll. " _What?_ "

   "Are you? Is it a boy or a girl?" She waves her own question off like it doesn't matter. "I need to get in contact with their parents, you know-"

   "I'm not seeing anyone. The train was just delayed. Really," he adds with a tiny smile that he hopes is cute enough to elicit just a little sympathy. "You know I wouldn't have missed udon for anything."

  
-

 

   Dread bursts in Hinata's stomach when he opens his eyes and realises that the picture frames on Jin's desk are upright today.

   He must have forgotten to knock them over like he does every other time. Hinata has never felt inclined to sneak a peek, but for some reason, he can't help staring. And it feels downright dirty to look at the contents, considering his underwear his still hanging off one of his ankles and he can feel Jin's erection, unattended and warm even though the fabric of his suit trousers.

   There are two frames, with two different people. Hinata doesn't know if he's happy or dismayed to find that neither of them contains a photograph of a woman; instead, the largest one is a picture of a little girl with lilac hair, dressed for what looks like her first day of school, being held up by a man with his back to the camera but who is obviously Jin. She's smiling, and he'd bet that Jin is smiling too.

   "That's your daughter?"

   "Mhm." He feels Jin's chin rest on his shoulder, peering over at the photograph. "That's Kyouko."

   The smaller picture is the stranger one. It's vintage, an old man's face peering out at him. Too old to be a partner, Hinata _hopes_ \- too old to even be a father. He looks vaguely familiar in a way Hinata can't place. He doesn't look like Jin, but then, it's hard to tell when they're so far apart in age.

   "And is that your dad?" he asks idly, turning as much as he can to look the headmaster in the eyes. He doesn't manage much, so he kisses his jaw instead.

   Jin only chuckles. "I'm going to pretend you didn't ask me that."

   "How come?" Hinata is interested now, the dizzy post-orgasm haze leaving him and being replaced by quiet curiosity. He fishes his underwear back up his thighs, and wiggles around trying to get them back on properly, enjoying the groan he gets when he rubs just-so against Jin's crotch.

   "Because you should know." Jin sounds weirdly strict when he says that, but it still doesn't click, and Hinata shakes his head. "His name is Izuru Kamukura. He founded this school. This used to be his office, in fact."

   Hinata pales. "I peed in Izuru Kamukura's office?"

   That, at least, gets a proper laugh and a kiss to the back of his ear that makes him feel warm in the best way. "He won't mind. He's been dead for quite some time." Jin goes quiet then. "It would be nice if the students were more aware of him, though. Considering what he's created..."

   "This is a good school," Hinata hums in agreement. He shifts up on his knees and turns around, back to the desk, and they're just about nose to nose. "The teachers are so understanding of their student's needs."

   Jin laughs again against Hinata's lips. "He only had one goal when he started this school. If he knew what had become of it..." he trails off, and looks away, brows creased with guilt.

   "What was his goal?" Hinata asks, drawing back, his head cocked slightly to the side. He's hyper-aware that this is definitely a discussion to be wearing trousers for, especially when Kamukura's portrait seems to be staring right at him, judging him for his ignorance. "This is the best school in the country, isn't it?" If not for the look on the headmaster's face, he would laugh. "What more could he have wanted?"

   Jin doesn't answer. He just forces a smile and Hinata kisses it away, light and soft and confused.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet i fooled you about what izuru this was.
> 
> also, au where jin keeps the izuru picture on his desk instead of on his wall for some reason??? ┐(‘～`；)┌


	10. J is for Juvenile

   Hinata keeps his eyes on his book while the girl shuffles around the desks of their registration classroom, dropping pink little envelopes on desks as she goes.

   He's pretty sure he knows the surnames of most people in his classes, but that's as far as it goes. Outside of club activities, and awkward conversation with the occasional pseudo-delinquent in the waiting room of Jin's office, Hinata keeps very much to himself. He doesn't mind. It gives him time to focus on his studies, which seem to be growing rapidly more time-consuming as mid-terms draw closer.

   The girl drops a pink envelope right onto the page of his open book. He looks up, startled, and she just smiles at him, moving on before he can force his brain to work well enough to thank her.

  
-

   
   It sits heavy in his bag all day. He has his usual teacher for geography, meaning he has to actually _work_ instead of just ogling Jin's ass for the better part of an hour, and then rushes off to the tennis court at lunchtime for some emergency practice.

   "Good news!" Nidai booms when they're all present - all eight of them, huddled around on the grass in their ridiculous little shorts. "And bad news," he adds as an afterthought. Hinata joins in when the others groan in unison.

   "We can take it, Nidai-senpai!" the girl next to Hinata says loudly, leaning forward in her eagerness. A few of the others cheer in agreement, and Nidai beams down at them.

   "I admire your fighting spirit!" he says, with a motion that looks like a cross between flexing his muscles and a fist-pump. "Well, the bad news is, we didn't get funding for uniforms. However!" he barks before anyone has a chance to look too sad about it. "The good news is we have permission to hold a fundraiser! And since you're all in the reserve program..." he trails off, but the implication is clear. Hinata doesn't let himself feel bitter about the comment. It's not like he's wrong.

   "So what are we doing?" someone else asks. "A raffle?"

   "A bake sale?"

   "A car wash?"

   "Wait," Hinata pipes up, and all heads turn to him. "Are you sure we can't talk them into it somehow?"

   "No can do, Hinata!" Nidai replies, sounding all too cheerful about it. "If our faculty sponsor says no, it's a no."

   "What about Headmaster Kirigiri? He keeps saying he's going to drop by practice sometime every time I see him-" Hinata pauses, realising what he just said. "Uh, in the halls. He seems really invested in this club."

   "Really?" Nidia muses, crossing his arms over his chest. "You can try if you want to. Just don't say anything to get the rest of us in trouble."

  
-

  
   Hinata's gym shorts lie abandoned on the floor of Jin's office. He's up on the desk, his new favourite place, naked from the waist down with his legs elegantly crossed, hiding what's between them.

   "So..." he says, leaning forward to press his lips to Jin's. His heart is racing a million miles and hour and he loves this. It's like a filthy double life, a side of him that nobody else knows about but the headmaster, and he wouldn't trade it for the world. "You know the stereotype, where a student hooks up with their teacher for a grade..."

   "I do," Jin replies, patiently, a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth even though he's clearly trying to feign seriousness. "Why? Isn't your extra tutoring paying off?"

   "No, it's not that." Hinata uncrosses his legs, resting his toes on the seat of Jin's chair. His knees are almost together, but not quite. He can't remember ever being this controlled in Jin's presence before; being in charge, devious, withholding what he knows the man wants. He feels especially confident like this, legs and ass bare but his shirt still covering his torso. Jin has never seen him without it, never asks to. "The tennis club needs a little extra funding. We need uniforms, and-"

   "Hinata." His voice is stern. Hinata's thighs pull together like he's been shocked. "Don't do this."

   "Don't do what?"

   "Don't ask me for money."

   "Oh god, no, I didn't mean it like _that_." Hinata tries to laugh it off, but Jin still looks unimpressed. He clears his throat and smooths his shirt down. "I just thought you'd want to help, you know? Since we have kind of a... special relationship, and all..."

   "It doesn't matter," Jin says shortly. He makes no move to get up from his seat, and Hinata suddenly feels very stupid, the pulsing anticipation between his legs dying down just like that. "We don't just have endless money sitting around in the treasury-" he says, anger bleeding into his voice, and Hinata swallows. "There's a reason you didn't get what you wanted. End of story."

   "But isn't tuition supposed to cover the-?"

   "Yes. It is," he snaps, and Hinata grips the underside of the desk tight, feels the blood drain from his face. "Look, you're a student, not my accountant, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't come in here trying to tell me what to do with school funds, alright?"

   Hinata nods dumbly, and finally Jin pushes his seat back and gets up, wandering over to the window and looking out, ignoring Hinata completely. Defeated, he hops off the desk and starts hunting around for his underwear, trying to ignore the pressure of sobs rising in this throat.

   "I'm sorry," he says at the door, dressed with his bag slung over one arm. Jin doesn't say anything. "You should come to the bake sale, at least? We'd probably sell a lot more if you were there."

   The tension in his shoulders seems to ease a little, and Hinata realises with sinking dread that this is the first time in a long time that he's left the office without a kiss goodbye.

 

 

 


	11. K is for Kyouko

   Hinata opens the pink envelope on the train home, his hands still trembling a little as he tears the fragile paper open and reads the invitation inside. It brings a hesitant little smile to his face until two words catch his attention and his mood comes crashing right back down again.

    _Bring swimsuit_.

-

  
   He spends the evening baking chocolate brownies, half for practice and half because it's hard to dwell on the argument when he has to focus on measuring cups and whisking and oven temperatures. He knows, and not without bitterness, that he wouldn't feel half as bad if Jin had just told him what he'd done wrong in the first place. But then, when did people ever tend to explain why they were upset?

   "Girl trouble?" his mother asks from the doorway, and he can sense the pity in her face.

   Hinata stirs a little harder. "Nope."

   "Boy trouble?"

   " _Mum_ -" he turns around, exasperated, but she only laughs and walks across the room to pull him into a hug he doesn't wriggle out of.

   "Don't be that way, Hajime. A mother always knows." She boops his nose with her index finger and her grin widens when he feels his face grow hot with embarrassment.

   When she leaves, he licks raw mix off his fingers and sighs as he slides the final batch into the oven.

   In the morning, he puts some in a box and leaves it on the girl's desk tied with a ribbon, along with a note. _I can't make it to the party_ , he scribbles, _but happy birthday_.

   Nobody asks about the bandages on his knuckles this time.

  
-

  
   "Special brownies, only fifty yen!"

   Nidai shoves the plate under the nose of a passing student so quickly that she almost gets a face full of chocolate.

   The eight of them are out on the sidewalk in front of the school, wearing their gym clothes just for show and doing their best to accost students and passers-by during their lunch hour. They have two tables, borrowed from the cafeteria and piled high with baked goods, and the more time Hinata spends out there the more difficult it is not to start stealing cupcakes for himself.

   The girl wrinkles her nose. She's tall, and so obviously athletic that he'd be surprised if Nidai didn't know her. "Special brownies?" She takes one of the plate, holding it between two fingers to inspect. "What's special about 'em?"

   "They're special because Hinata made them!" Nidai laughs, retracting the brownie plate and setting it back on the table again. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Owari-san!"

   "They have chocolate chips," Hinata adds with his best Girl-Scout smile. "For energy, you know?"

   "Really?" The girl sound sceptical, and before Nidai can stop her, she shoves the entire brownie into her mouth. Hinata just watches in amazement as she chews and then swallows, raising her eyebrows in pleasant surprise. "They're good! I'll take ten more."

   Hinata's jaw drops. " _Ten?_ "

   She thinks about it for a moment. "No. Fifteen."

  "Fifteen it is!" someone says from behind him, and the next thing Hinata has 800¥ in his hands and the girl is wandering off w ith a paper box in her hands and a smile on her face.

   He drops the coins into the money box as Nidai claps him on the shoulder. "They're a real hit, aren't they?" he says, gesturing towards the plate, which now has a total of two brownies left. "Maybe we should do this more often."

  
-

  
   Hinata doesn't know what happened, but somehow they find themselves swarmed through the second half of lunch, and he barely has a minute to catch his breath in between making sales and putting new stock on display. His hands feel raw from handling so much money. To his delight, he's even elected to do the heavy lifting when they have to fetch another table from the cafeteria to handle all the customers.

   When he returns, indents from the metal underside burned into his fingers and sweat literally running down his forehead, Jin is there, deep in conversation with one of his teammates about the quality of the lemon shortcakes.

   Because of course he is.

   Hinata leaves the table with someone else and sidles over, greeting Jin with a respectful smile and his last name. "I'm glad you could make it, Headmaster Kirigiri."

   "Of course," Jin says, with a pinch more formality than Hinata is at all used to. He blushes despite himself. To think that this man has gotten him off so many times, has watched him do things that some would consider _revolting_ , and here he is, at a bake sale, just talking to him like he would any other student. It gets right under Hinata's skin in the worst way. "I wouldn't miss a fundraiser for my favourite club."

   "Thank you," Hinata replies, with a gracious bow of his head. "Since it's you, I could probably let you try some-"

   He trails off when he notices that Jin isn't looking at him anymore. His gaze is somewhere over Hinata's shoulder, his face pale, like the blood has all but drained from it.

   "Hey, is that vanilla frosting?"

   Something about the voice makes him look around, and his heart just about stops when he sees who it is.

   She's deep in conversation with a friend, and doesn't notice Hinata slack-jawed staring. Considering where he knows her from, he'd recognise that face anywhere. Her lilac-coloured hair and those exact same violet eyes-

   He feels Jin tense beside him.

  
-

  
   He's just about dragged up to the office when the bell rings to signal the end of lunchtime, because as much as Jin goes on about how important his studies are, he obviously doesn't care if Hinata misses fifth period, which is fine.

   The man's breathing is laboured when he finally closes the door behind him. Hinata sits down in the same seat, but Jin leans against the desk instead, his head in his hands.

   "We never mention this," he says sharply, before Hinata can ask why Jin decided to completely ignore his daughter, why she completely ignored him right back even when their eyes met for a split-second that Hinata didn't miss, why Jin looked so _afraid_  of a goddamn fifteen year old girl at a bake sale. "Okay? We never mention this again."

  Hinata nods, doesn't challenge it. "Okay."

   The next time he visits the office, Kyouko's picture is gone, but Kamukura's still sits upright, always.

 

 


	12. L is for Luxury

   Jin pops the bottle open, and drizzles oil into his open palm. "I've heard this works especially well for muscle pains," he says, his voice oddly soft. His suit jacket is off for once, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbow, and the look is so overpoweringly attractive that Hinata is deeply, deeply sorry that he has to look away from it.

   He's laying face down on the couch in Jin's office. It's leather, unsurprisingly, supple and high-quality and soft enough that he sinks right into it and it's only been a few minutes but already he's dreading getting up again. His legs are bare, calves and thighs and everywhere still throbbing from the match.

   "It'll be better if you take your shirt off," Jin adds, but Hinata doesn't move. He takes the silence for a negative and the next thing Hinata feels careful, practised fingers on the swollen muscle of his calf, locked up tight with overuse. "What did your coach say about this?"

   "That I have to learn to stretch properly." Hinata's words are muffled and his head ringing with the awareness that he's being touched in a place he can't see. "And that I should work out more outside of practice. And that I should take it easy on my muscles, so no sex." Hinata rolls his eyes, even though he knows Jin can't see. "And then he laughed, like it was the most ridiculous notion."

   He hears the small smile in Jin's voice. "I suppose he doesn't know you're not as innocent as you let on."

   Hinata has never had a massage before, and it's heaven. He's light, nerves all throbbing, and it's pain and bliss at the same time. It's so good, he almost considers taking his shirt off to let Jin get at his worn spine and achey upper arms, and that spot on his side where one of his teammates accidentally smacked him with a racket.

   It's on the tip of his tongue, 'you're so good to me', but he holds it back, because maybe Jin doesn't know just how incredible this is. To have any kind attention he wants without every being asked to reciprocate - and he _will_ , when he's ready, because he isn't _that_  selfish, but at the same time, he doesn't think he'll ever have to. It's like Jin doesn't even know that he's giving while taking nothing back.

   Hinata lets out an involuntary little sound, somewhere between a choke and a moan when Jin kneads his skin just right. He feels like he's slipping, unravelling with every touch. It takes a moment to compose himself enough to laugh a under his breath at what the headmaster said. "Well, is anyone?"


	13. M is for Mess

   Hinata finds a new way to entertain himself in the mornings.

   He steps into the bath, faucet already gushing to warm it up, and closes the shower curtain. All the websites say to masturbate like this, but he has something so much better.

   He presses his thighs together and closes his eyes, forcing himself to relax, trying to coax his body into learning that it's alright. He tenses and it stops as soon as he feels that first trickle, the warm stream down the inside of his thigh, his system too skittish to let go that easily. But he's training, and it gets easier every time.

   Over the running water, his parents won't be able to hear a thing.

   He stares up at the ceiling and breathes in deep, in and out. When it starts again, he couldn't stop it if he wanted to. The moment he feels it, the air is squeezed from his lungs and his thoughts dissolve into static and an internal litany of  _yes yes yes yes yes._

   It's so hot he can barely stand it. Not a drop of it can escape between his thighs; it's all over his skin, dirtying him. It's electrifying and tranquil at the same time, as the desperation ebbs away and is replaced by a creeping sense of calm and he finally looks down at himself, the flow drenching him all the way down to his ankles. It's that quiet, shuddery pleasure that gets him every time.

   When it's over, he dips a hand between his legs and feels the wetness that still clings there, warm and disgusting and perfect.

   With the shower on, it's all gone within seconds.

  
-

  
   "Training yourself?"

   Jin's mouth is about an inch from Hinata's sex when he says that, amused, like it's the most absurd notion.

   They've never done this before; it was too intimate, and Hinata never asked, and Jin never pressed. But as he grew gradually more comfortable with Jin looking at him down there, it wasn't far to go before he was wondering just what it would feel like to have a little more. A glance down informs Hinata that he's all pink and swollen and slick with anticipation, literally dripping onto the desk beneath him, and Jin is looking at him like he has some kind of treasure between his legs.

   "Yes," he says. "Training myself so I can go on demand, if..." he bites back the words _I want to_. "You want me to."

   "Like an animal?" Jin's mouth is still teasingly close, and Hinata can feel his warm breath over his more sensitive area, so hot and unfamiliar that he can't resist tightening his grip on Jin's hair a little. The words send twin shivers of embarrassment and arousal through him.

   "If you want," he says.

   Jin smirks up at him for a split-second before he leans forward and drags his tongue, agonizingly slow, in a broad lick up Hinata's slit, flicking against his clit once before he pulls off again. "Really? What would you be?" He does the same thing again, but then presses the flat of his tongue right where Hinata wants it, laving that amazing spot with delicate attention, stopping when Hinata's legs spasm completely out of control, trying to close even though that's the absolute last thing he wants. "A puppy?" Jin presses a kiss to his navel and Hinata whimpers. "A bunny?"

   Hinata feels on the verge of some kind of brain aneurysm. Jin is all too good at this, the talking and the teasing, and for one torturous moment he imagines sitting in the next assembly and knowing that the mouth Jin is addressing his students with has been smeared with Hinata's come, that the tongue he clicks sometimes when he's annoyed during class has explored around his entrance, dipping just inside in a way that elicits the most embarrassing drawn-out moan, and nobody else would know this dirty little secret but them.

   "What do you think?" Jin prompts, working little circles over Hinata's clit with the pad of his thumb while he speaks. "I could get you a collar and a leash. Maybe even a litterbox, if you're good."

   Hinata has to cover his mouth to stop from crying out.

  
-

  
   Hinata has seen a penis in the sense that he's vaguely familiar with internet pornography and hyper-realistic sex toys and what he sees every time somebody is at the urinals in the school bathroom, but he learns all too quickly that none of that prepared him at all for actually dealing with one in real life.

   Jin's cock is huge. Hinata isn't sure if it's actually huge or if it just looks that way because it's intimidating, but either way it makes his hands look small by comparison and he wonders how this thing ever fit inside a human being.

   "It's huge," he says, breathless. Both of his hands are wrapped around the base, slippery with lube and unmoving. He knows, in theory, that he should do something, but all his brain is capable of right now is how warm it is, how surprisingly smooth the skin is and how he's almost certain he can feel Jin's pulse through this part of him, though that could be his imagination.

   More than anything, he's shocked by how his body reacts to this. It's primal, almost, the way his mind is static with nerves but stomach is fluttering with something else. He must have soaked right through his underwear by now.

   Jin laughs good-naturedly, a strangely human gesture considering this alien thing that's currently protruding from his fly. "It definitely isn't," he says, casually stroking his hands from Hinata's waist to his ass, squeezing the flesh there in a way that's almost playful.

   They're both staring down between their bodies. Gingerly, Hinata starts to move, stroking up and down at a pace he knows is completely uneven, but Jin tilts his head back and moans anyway, and Hinata takes the opportunity to kiss his neck, wondering if this is how Jin feels every time he gets Hinata off. Like he's in control and dizzy with lust at the same time.

   "Okay?" Jin asks softly, stroking up and down Hinata's clothed back, like he's trying to relax him. "You ready?"

   Hinata closes his eyes, presses his forehead to Jin's shoulder and nods. "It's hard to stop once I-"

   "I know." Jin kisses the shell of his ear. "I won't ask you to stop." 

   Hinata's ministrations grow a little erratic with his effort to concentrate on un-tensing his muscles, and he finds himself unconsciously grinding against Jin's thigh, rocking his hips, trying to give in, to let go. It happens all at once this time. His eyes fly open, staring down at the wet stain spreading over the crotch of his underwear, that delicious warmth, streaming through the fabric when it's saturated, and Jin groans when he feels it, too.

   "O-oh," Hinata gasps, his eyelashes fluttering, and Jin's dick twitches in his hand.

   "Shit, oh my god."

   He's never heard Jin swear before, and he swallows, speeding up his strokes and rocking his hips faster, loving the drag of soaked fabric over his clit. Out of nowhere he feels Jin's cock jerk in his hand and he lets out a choked sound as he comes, all over Hinata's hand and both of their shirts, right when Hinata's bladder finally empties and the younger boy lets out a shuddering breath.

   His limbs seem to have turned to jelly, but somehow he pushes himself up onto his knees, taking a good look at the mess he's made. He's soaked, obviously, but so is Jin, wet all over his thighs, liquid pooling in the chair beneath them. Hinata lifts his hand to get a good look at it, streaked with come, and he doesn't know what to do with it except stare and try to let it sink in that _he_  made this happen.

   He settles for wiping it off on Jin's ruined trousers. "Who cleans this up?"

   "Me." Jin raises his eyebrows, doesn't sound bitter, but guilt still twists in Hinata stomach when he realises. It's not like Jin could just call the janitor and try to explain why there's piss all over any given chair in his office. That would work maybe once before people started asking questions.

   "Oh." Hinata bows his head. "I'm sorry."

   "Don't be." Jin presses a kiss to his lips, gentle and loving and far too sweet considering the mess Hinata just made of him. "Maybe you can help me while I finish you off, hm?"

 


	14. N is for Naked

 

   To his surprise and embarrassment, Hinata catches himself more and more often thinking about Jin. And before, it was okay; it was only in private moments, those fleeting memories of writhing around on the headmaster's lap, and that gorgeous sound he makes when he comes, and the way his eyes sometimes linger on Hinata when he takes a class or passes him in the hall, innocent to everyone else but them.

   But now, it's different. It's whenever he's not otherwise occupied, and his thoughts always wander back to Jin. He lies on his stomach, sprawled out on his bed and unable to focus on the textbooks and papers all spread out in front of him.

   He wonders where Jin would take him on a date.

   Not that Jin _could_  ever take him on a date, because while Hinata is reasonably tall for his age he doesn't exactly look old and it would still be shady, and even in an alternate universe where it isn't wildly inappropriate, there's no way to know for sure if Jin would even want that with him. To go to movies, and eat homecooked dinners at Jin's no-doubt swanky apartment, and take night time walks in the park and share chaste kisses at Hinata's front door when it's over.

   Hinata isn't stupid. He knows that's never been part of the arrangement. But it doesn't hurt to think about it.

   By his estimate, and considering the age of his daughter, Jin is probably in his late thirties to mid forties; old enough to be Hinata's dad, but not as old as his actual dad, which is comforting for some reason. Regardless, Hinata has no idea what people Jin's age do with their spare time, nevermind what they'd choose to do on a date. In his mind, he can only see Jin's life outside of the academy as a fuzzy, white blur, he knows so little about it.

   All he can really piece together is that the man is good at massages and sex things and is most likely pretty wealthy considering what his job is. He's intelligent, too; Hinata almost laughs aloud imaging Jin as one of those men who sits in front of the fireplace and drinks whisky from a short, wide little glass while he reads classic literature and wears a housecoat.

   Or maybe the reason he looks so tired lately is because he prowls night clubs, knocking back alcopops and sleeping around, and that's how he got so good at it.

   Hinata smiles to himself and makes a mental note to ask if Jin drinks gin.

   But then, maybe he doesn't drink at all. Maybe he's one of those clean-eating people who doesn't touch toxins and only eats carbs on the weekend. Maybe he goes jogging every day and drives a hybrid car. Maybe he even does yoga. Hinata doesn't know, but he wants to. He wants to soak up every little detail like some kind of Jin Kirigiri encyclopaedia. 

   He opens up the picture he has saved on his phone and sighs. This feeling is alien and bubbly and distasteful, and he doesn't like it at all.

  
-

  
   Jin takes his geography class the next day, and Hinata starts to wonder if his teacher is really sick this often or if Jin is arranging this especially, just to see him. It sets off a flurry of butterflies in his stomach that doesn't let up, and only storms worse when Jin approaches him towards the end of class, leans in close and asks him in a low voice to stay behind after the bell.

   When the class filters out, Hinata only sits, pretending to rearrange the folders and papers in his bag. He keeps looking down when he hears Jin close the classroom door and lock it. He comes over to Hinata's desk and stands before it, looking entirely nonchalant.

   "I got you something," he says, his voice light, and Hinata swallows. He can feel himself already wet with anticipation, but for all he knows, it could be nothing.

   Jin places a box on his desk, elegant and black and tied with a purple ribbon. At Hinata's hesitation, he smiles. "You can open it here, it's not going to explode or anything."

   "Right," Hinata nods with a little laugh, pulling the box towards him. It's not heavy, but not exactly light either. He opens it. And it is definitely not nothing.

   Sitting atop the soft velvet lining of the inside of the box is a collar, pale blue and supple to the touch when Hinata picks it up, unable to hold back a choked little gasp. He smooths his thumb over the buckle at the back, silver, and the metal loop at the front, meant for a leash.

   "You like it?" Jin asks when Hinata finally puts it back and slips the box into his bag. He feels light-headed, and he wouldn't be surprised if all the blood in his body has rushed down south, making him dizzy with arousal. His throat is dry, and he only nods.

   "Good." Jin kneels to look him in the eyes, forearms on the desk. Hinata averts his gaze down to his own knees, suddenly shy, but Jin places one finger under his chin and tilts his head up. "Listen to me."

   Hinata listens.

   "My office door is unlocked, and the spare key is on top of the filing cabinet behind the desk." He speaks slow, calm, even. He must be able to tell how out of it Hinata is, like a zombie or an animal, his thought processes stunted and stuttering. "After your last class, I want you to lock the door behind you and wait for me. I want you naked and on the floor beside my desk chair when I get there, alright?"

   Hinata nods yet again, mechanically, his mind already swimming with mental images. Jin stroking his hair, saying he's good. Jin spanking him when he's not. Jin getting him off with that demon tongue of his as a reward for taking it so well, because orgasms will be earned and not just something given out freely, and Hinata can feel his face grow hotter by the second as he mumbles a "thank you" and stands, shaky, slinging his bag over one shoulder.

   Jin picks up his briefcase and leaves without saying goodbye.

  
-

  
   Hinata doesn't go to his next class. He can't. He's flushed hot and mindless, pulsing and clenching and wet, and he's not sure he's ever been this turned on in his entire life. He pushes through the crowds in the corridors until he gets to the bathrooms, not even caring that some other guy is there, taking care of business while he locks himself in a bathroom and fumbles for the box again.

   He fastens the collar around his neck, slightly too tight so he can feel it more, and shoves a hand down the front of his trousers, covering his mouth with his other hand to stifle the cry he can't hold back. His legs are shaking too much to hold him up, so he sinks down to sit on the floor. He trails the pad of one finger through his folds, over and over again, and even that's intense with how sensitive he is.

   He presses down hard on his clit and this time he can't hold back the moan that spills out of his mouth.

   If only Jin could see him now.

   It's been forever since he's done this. It's not like he has to, these days. He tries to focus, to replicate what Jin does to him, working his fingers at the same exact rhythm, and it feels amazing but not as good as it does when it's someone else. He goes faster, harder, and bites down hard on his lip with the realisation that he can hear how wet he is even though he isn't touching his entrance at all.

   The guy leaves and nobody else comes in. He lets himself be a little loud, curling his toes and jerking his hips and crying out. He's feverish, like someone has spiked him with an aphrodisiac. He wraps one hand around his throat, not squeezing, just feeling the collar and reminding himself that he is owned.

   He's so worked up that he feels like he should come within five minutes, but he doesn't. Clumsily, he shoves his trousers down to his knees, feeling ridiculous with his bare ass on the cold tiles. Tears of frustration are already prick at his eyes. He's so close to the edge, but at the same time, not close at all.

   He needs more.

   With his free hand, he reaches down lower and gets two fingers slick before pushing one inside. He doesn't bother go to slow. He fucks in and out, trying every angle he can manage, searching for the perfect spot he's never been able to find. He hasn't crossed this boundary with Jin before, has barely even experimented with it himself, and it only takes him a few minutes to realise that it feels like nothing at all.

   "Come on," he says through gritted teeth, bowing his head to watch as he eases another finger inside. He's already getting tired and he's barely even done anything yet.

   He's still tingling, needy, desperate; but it's like he's physically incapable of giving himself what he needs, like he can't move his fingers fast enough over his clit even though he's going faster than Jin does, and he's only prolonging the pleasure but never making it build, letting it peak.

   He doesn't even notice his cheeks are wet with tears until he says it again. "Come on," and his voice is thicker than usual and he stops abruptly, pulls his fingers out and takes in a shuddering breath.

   "No," he says on the exhale, unable to hold back a pathetic, weak sob. He touches his slick fingers to the collar, not caring if he gets it dirty. It sends a thrill through him that he knows he won't be able to take any further. "I need this," he tells himself, staring down at his vulva, all messy with his come. His clit is swollen and obvious and begging for attention.

   And it should be so easy. 

-

  
   "I said 'naked', Hajime."

   Hinata is on the floor, on his knees, and Jin's hand is fisted in his hair, forcing their eyes to meet. His voice is calm, patient, but the words still send a shiver of fear through him. He's can feel his upper thighs slick with come, and all his skin out in goosebumps.

   "Puppies," Jin begins, because that's what Hinata is now - the collar heavy around his neck, his lips pressed tight together because pets don't speak, don't disobey, don't talk back, "don't wear shirts."

   Hinata looks down at himself the best he can. His tie is off, his thighs are bare, but his torso is still covered by the white uniform shirt he always wears, even when he's in Jin's lap, or up on the desk with his legs spread.

   Jin lets go of his hair and brushes the backs of his fingers along Hinata's jaw, soothing. "So take it off, or I will."

  The floorboards ache his knees. His skin seems to scorch where Jin is touching him, stroking him with more affection that H Hinata can find in his eyes. With every anxious inhale, the leather around his neck feels tighter, pressing down on his windpipe, depriving his lungs.

   With trembling hands, he unbuttons his shirt, letting it fall away and expose what's underneath. He makes no move to take his binder off, but Jin doesn't say anything more. This must be naked enough.

   Hinata looks away, but he can still feel Jin's gaze on him.

  
-

  
   "Why are you so shy, puppy?"

   Five minutes later and he's lying on his back on the desk, arms folded over his still-covered chest, legs dangling over the edge and open so that Jin can get between them. All he can feel is the gentle press of lips over his stomach, his hips, his navel. Jin hasn't so much as touched any of his more sensitive areas yet. Hinata can tell he's trying to soothe him, but he doesn't feel soothed at all.

   He takes the question as permission to speak. "I don't like my chest," he says, strained, as though it's somehow not obvious by now.

   In this position, he aware of how stupid it is. That Jin, at this very moment, has the perfect view of his _vagina_ , and yet he is, kicking up a fuss about his chest. He can't explain it, why some things bother him more than others. Why he can't bare to acknowledge the swell of his hips or that curve on the underside of his thighs, but doesn't really mind what happens to be between his legs - but Jin doesn't ask.

   "I can't see your chest," he replies without missing a beat. He pauses, then adds, "Don't you trust me?"

   "I do," Hinata says softly, without hesitation. He repeats it in his head. He trusts Jin. He has no reason not to trust him. He's only giving Hinata what he asked for - to be vulnerable, loved, cared for. It's all part of the game, and he can't play if he doesn't give it all up, everything, whatever his master wants.

   "Look at those abs." Jin sounds awestruck. Hinata feels him stroking over where his stomach muscles are pulled taut from the pose and the nerves. "God, look at you."

   If he didn't know better, he'd think Jin had forgotten what they're supposed to be doing. Like he's so distracted by Hinata's body that the role-play has gone completely out of his head, and it's flattering and disappointing at the same time.

   "You're irresistible," he says. He kisses soft and open mouthed over the left side of Hinata's torso, all the way from the edge of fabric down to the dip of his pelvis and then down, still, to where he's still embarrassingly wet, even though his mind is elsewhere by now. He drags his tongue right over Hinata's clit without warning and his eyes roll back, unable to help himself as he arches his back, wanting more.

   "That's right." Jin's voice is low and Hinata barely even hears him over the pounding his head, and in the back of his mind he wonders if Jin would be offended if he clamped his thighs shut to keep his mouth there, to make sure he doesn't tease. He's speaking in between licks and kisses, and Hinata feels so close already, so sensitive it hurts. "It looks like you already had some attention today, sweetheart." Hinata's heart stops. He's never been called that before and it sends a swell of emotion through him that he can't quite place. "You already make yourself come while you were waiting for me?" He dips his tongue inside and Hinata's legs spasm. "Hm?"

   "I can't-" Hinata knows he's not supposed to speak but Jin doesn't object. He says it all in one rush of breath. "You know I can't not by myself I really needed-  _oh_ -" he gasps, because while he's speaking it means that Jin can't and he spends every second of that time working Hinata over just right. His voice gets higher pitched the closer he gets, and it would be hilarious, if he wasn't about to come. "You- oh fuck, oh- _fuck_!"

   He goes quiet and still for a split-second and then it's over and he's gone, pleasure quaking through every nerve in him. He hears himself laugh under his breath in between his nonsense moans. It's in his veins, electric and hot and cold and perfect, and he loves Jin for giving this to him.

   He thinks that maybe it's just as well he can't do this on his own, because he'd never get around to doing anything else otherwise.

   He didn't even know Jin was jerking himself off until he hears him come, too, and that sends him into news realms of dizziness.

  
-

  
   Hinata comes three more times, and by the time it's over he's so light headed that he has no idea how he's going to get home. He imagines Jin having to drive him back and carry him to the front door, unconscious and blissed-out. "Hello, Mr and Mrs Hinata, I'm afraid I just about killed your son with my-"

   "Hajime?" Jin interrupts his reverie with a kiss, and Hinata blushes when he tastes himself on the man's lips. He's still on the desk, his head hanging over the edge. He must have zoned out watching Jin clean himself up on the other side of the room. "You still alive over here?"

   "Mmmmhm," Hinata hums, smiling lazily up at him. He stretches as much as his weak body will let him, letting Jin reach around the back of his neck and gently unfasten the collar, taking it off and setting it down on the surface. "Barely."

   "I think you ruined my desk." Jin says the words idly, but Hinata panics, sitting bolt upright and looking at the wood between his legs before he realises Jin is joking and it's just wet with his come and Jin's and probably a good amount of saliva as well. Hinata has never been so thrilled to see a mess. He eases himself onto his back again, not ready to get up just yet.

   Jin sobers suddenly, and leans down to kiss him again. Hinata barely responds, still too floaty and limp to do much but lie there and enjoy it. "We'll do it right next time," he says when they part, his voice laced with sincerity. "The whole deal, with a leash and rules and role-playing and whatever you want. I didn't mean to get so distracted."

   Hinata laughs, because as if he's going to be upset about it considering what happened instead. He's excited about being Jin's pet, but at the same, he's not exactly offended by the idea of being laid out on the desk and licked and kissed through so many orgasms he almost lost count. "Hey," he pipes up when Jin goes over to the coffee table to fetch Hinata's clothes where they're folded in a neat little pile. "Do you drink gin?"

   "Do I-?" he turns around, perplexed, but then he gets it and his face lights up with amusement that sets tingly warmth spreading through Hinata's stomach, all the way up through his chest and into his throat. "No, I don't. It's rum and coke for me, mostly."

   "Really?" Hinata closes his eyes when Jin returns, letting the headmaster put his underwear on for him, the crotch of it still damp from earlier. "Isn't that a girly drink?"

   "Ouch." He feels a tap on shoulder and he sits up. Jin puts his arms through the side holes of the shirt, then does up the buttons clumsily, like he's never done this for another person before. "I can't believe you'd come into my office and insult me this way." Hinata giggles, actually _giggles_ , and steals another kiss. Jin pulls back, looks him over. "Do you drink?"

   "Nope," Hinata says.

   Jin only smiles. "I like that."

  
   When Hinata is finally dressed and presentable, Jin takes him down to the cafeteria and makes him eat a sandwich and drink a bottle of water before he leaves. It helps to steady him, and Jin sits with him while he eats. It makes him feel light-headed all over again to know that the headmaster is spending this time with him voluntarily, just making idle conversation, all because he wants to make sure that Hinata makes up for the lost energy and doesn't pass out on the way home or something.

   They say goodbye at the gates, but just as Hinata turns away, Jin stops him with a hand around his wrist. His posture is awkward, and hesitant. He clears his throat. "Would it be weird if I asked for your number?"

   "Not weirder than when I peed on you," Hinata replies without thinking, and then immediately cringes because wow, that is the least appealing answer he could possibly have given to a guy asking for his number, but Jin only laughs.

   "Well, that's a good point, but you know. You're..." he trails off, gesturing vaguely to Hinata's body.

   He raises an eyebrow. "I'm what?"

   Jin laughs again, almost strained. "Sixteen?"

   The sun is setting, casting long shadows on the ground before them. Hinata tries to think up some witty response, but he can't, so instead he holds out his hand and says, "Give me your phone, then."

   Jin blinks, surprised for a moment before he composes himself and lets Hinata enter his details. When he's done, he hands the phone back and Jin slips it into his pocket again. "I'll text you my number," he says, and Hinata nods, and then they part ways and Hinata resists the rising urge to turn back and beg Jin to drive him home so he can spend just a little more time in his presence.

 

 

 

 


	15. O is for Omen

   Hinata's sessions with Jin grow less frequent as midterms approach, which is good in way, because he needs the extra study time. He spends countless hours in the library, staring at Jin's name in his phone and wondering if he should text him. Other than that the one sent to give him Jin's number, and Hinata's quick reply, there's been no communication, and Hinata misses him, but not enough to take the risk of getting no response.

   He keeps his phone on the table through dinner every night, ignoring the looks he gets from his parents. "Waiting for a call, Hajime?" his mother finally asks one night, teasing, and he only shoves more rice in his mouth so he doesn't have to answer her.

 

-

 

   It's gotten to the point where it feels distinctly wrong to be sitting in Jin's office, fully clothed, across from the desk like a regular student.

   Well, regular except the fact that it's lunch time, and he's picking at a salad when Jin comes in with two cups of coffee. "So," he says, setting Hinata's down in front of him. He only stares at it. He doesn't drink coffee unless it's iced with lots of sugar, but of course, it's not like Jin would know that. "There's someone I'd like you to meet." Jin notices him looking at the cup while he lowers himself into his desk chair. "It's hot chocolate, by the way. I didn't think you'd like coffee yet."

   Hinata raises his eyebrows. "Yet?" Then, he registers what Jin actually said, and raises them more. "Kyouko?"

   "What?" Jin sputters out a laugh, and Hinata looks down, embarrassed. "No, god, not her. No, it's a student."

   "Oh?"

   "He and a few others are working on a... project, for the benefit of the school. They're still a little short on cash, and since you did so well at that fundraiser, I thought you might like to meet him, maybe give him some tips." Jin lowers his voice to a mutter. "And don't tell anyone I said this, but he could use some friends."

   "Oh," Hinata says again, nodding like he understands. "What's his name?"

   "Oh, he's in the main program." Jin waves the question off." I doubt you'll know him."

 

-

 

   It's impossible to concentrate through practice. He can feel Nidai's eyes on him after the first time he accidentally manages to lose his grip and not only miss the ball but throw the racket right over the net. It's like his limbs have turned to jelly and he's not really all there, and it must be obvious.

   Afterwards, Nidai stands over him and watches him stretch until everyone else is gone. He's on the grass, feeling ridiculous with his legs open, attempting to lean to the left and hold onto his foot when the small crowd of students wanders down the footpath. They stand a little way off from the court, talking amongst themselves, and Hinata tries not to stare.

   He squints against the sun and tilts his head to look at Nidai. "Who are they?"

   "'They'?" Nidai looks around, confused, but then his face lights up when he sees the students and he waves his big, exaggerated wave at them. Hinata takes the opportunity to get up, vaguely pulling one calf up behind him by the ankle, pretending he knows what he's doing.

   He wonders, fleetingly, if Nidai only makes friends with tall people or something, because from the distance he estimates they must all be about his height or thereabouts. They don't come any closer, and instead Nidai yells out to them, "I'll be five minutes!"

   One of them yells back something incomprehensible and they're walking away again, back towards the school. Nidai meets Hinata's questioning look with a smile.

   "We're going to the movies," he explains, even though Hinata didn't ask and isn't particularly interested. "Hinata!" He barks suddenly, and Hinata almost falls over with the shock, turning to find Nidai giving him an intense, wide-eyed stare. "How rude of me! You are, of course, invited as well!"

   "What?" Hinata tries to laugh off the blush creeping onto his face. He hasn't been invited out with anyone since that party, not since he came to this school. "Me?"

   "Of course!" Nidai says again. He has his hands on his hips, gazing off across the school grounds instead of at Hinata, most likely noticing his embarrassment.

   "Oh, well thanks, that would be ni-" he cuts himself off, biting back a groan. Nidai shoots him a puzzled look, and Hinata's shoulders slump. He bows his head, looks at the grass. "Actually, I already have plans. Thanks, though," he adds weakly.

   "Anytime!" Nidai claps him on the shoulder with enough force to send him stumbling forwards. They walk in silence to the showers, and Nidai's friends are there again, waiting outside in their little cluster. They look supermodels, tall and slender and graceful, not at all similar looking but at the same time there's an air about them that he can't place. They don't say anything when they walk by, and Hinata wonders if it's because he's there.

   He can't imagine what it would be like to spend time with people like that. Nidai is from the main program, sure, but he has to be more down-to-earth than the rest of them. What do they talk about? How do they treat others? Would they be as friendly as Nidai, or would they look down on him? He undresses alone, steps under the spray and tries not to think about it, instead choosing to focus on being clean and presentable for his meeting, and not what he could be missing out on instead.

 

-

 

   "So how did you like Matsuda?"

   The sky is tinged with orange by the time they finally leave. They walk together through the empty corridors, and Jin still speaks with his voice lowered even though nobody is around.

   Hinata doesn't reply. Instead, he shoots Jin a pained grimace.

   "Don't be like that," Jin says, but he smiles, like he secretly agrees. "I know he can be a little... abrasive, sometimes, but he's one of the greatest minds we have here at Hope's Peak. Maybe even the best."

   "Is that why he's so rude?" Hinata snorts, not caring if he sounds mean. After what he just had to sit through, he's sure he has the right to be as mean as he wants. "Because he's used to being flattered?"

   Jin shrugs it off, but doesn't say no. "He deserves the praise. He and Ryouko have been a major asset to this school since the day they got here, you know."

   Hinata rolls his eyes. "At least he'll be leaving next year."

   "Maybe not," Jin hums. "It's likely he'll stay on as a researcher."

   "A researcher?"

   Jin only hums again in response. They reach the main door and pause. Hinata isn't ready to leave yet. He has questions, and Jin seems to sense that there's more to say, because he just lingers there, expectant.

   He shifts from foot to foot, and Jin is patient while he tries to phrase what he's thinking. "He... didn't really ask a lot about fundraising."

   "No?" Jin muses, even though he was there the entire time and must have noticed that Matsuda seemed far more interested in Hinata's personal life and, for some reason, medical records, than the bake sale. But interested in a distant, begrudging way. He asked questions like he was taking a survey. "Well, I think it's good that you two got to know each other anyway."

   "Jin," Hinata says quickly, because it looks like Jin is about to leave and Hinata's stomach is still twisting with nerves. "You mentioned a project..."

   The sigh he gets in response makes him instantly wish he hadn't asked.

   "Don't worry about it," Jin replies, patient though Hinata senses that he may not feel that way. He looks distant, like his mind is somewhere else. Hinata supposes that his own is the same. "I promise, I'll be able to answer all your questions next term. Things are very up in the air right now, so I can't really..." he makes a vague gesture, but Hinata nods, pretending to understand, and decides to change the subject.

   "Will I see you over winter break?"

   "Oh, uh-" Jin looks thrown by the question and his eyes dart from Hinata's face to his own watch, and then at the door, as though it will answer the question for him. Hinata's heart sinks, and his face grows hot. He swallows the lump rising in this throat.

   "Forget it," he says, forcing a smile and pushing past Jin and out of the building.

   He keeps his eyes down, hating the way they begin to water without his permission, the stress of the day materializing in the tears streaming down his cheeks, refusing to let up no matter how hard he squeezes his fingers into fists or how many deep, shuddering breaths he takes as he gives up on walking and begins to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering, Nidai's movie buddies are supposed to be Gundam, Sonia and Owari.   
> (Also, for the record, I know that in dr0 Matsuda says he never met Kamukura, but shsl neurologist never meeting shsl lobotomized? Mhm sure.)


	16. P is for Phone Call

 

   "Hajime, please just come downstairs." His mother's voice is muffled from behind his bedroom door, and he can see the blockage of the light spilling in from the hallway from where she's sitting, back pressed up against the wood. "She didn't mean it."

   Hinata doesn't move from where he's lying, face-down on his bed with his head cradled in his arms. His eyes are dry, but his temples throb with the effort of keeping them that way.

   "She won't say it again," she says, but her voice is weak, like even she doesn't believe it.

   If not for the chair wedged under his door handle, she would be in here by now, lecturing him to his face instead of behind a barrier.

   "You want me to kick her out, don't you?" He's never heard his mother sound so fed-up, so impatient. "You want me to kick my eighty-two year old mother out of my house. At Christmas." Her tone is completely flat. "Jesus, Hajime."

   Once again, he doesn't respond.

   "Can you at least say something?"

   His voice comes hard, strained. "Stop acting like she isn't doing it on purpose."

   There's a pause, and then she sighs. "She's an old woman. She doesn't understand."

   "Then I don't want to see her." His words are so distorted he doesn't know if she heard them at all until the shadow disappears and he's alone again.

  
-

  
   His phone rings a few hours later, when he's lying in the blackness, staring at the ceiling with his earphones in. His ringtone suddenly blares through the music and he sits upright, wrenching them out and squinting through the hazy, too-bright light to see who's calling.

   Jin.

   He sighs, and hesitates before swiping the screen to answer it, and holding the phone to his ear, thinking it must be a mistake. "Hello?"

   "Hi." Jin's voice is smoother, deeper over the phone, and Hinata is suddenly all too concious of the fact that he's breathing into the receiver, so awkward and unaccustomed to this. "Is this a bad time?"

   Hinata has to think about it. "No. I'm alone." He lies back, head on the pillow again, stretching his legs out. "Just having kind of a bad day."

   "Really?" Jin sounds genuinely concerned, and Hinata's throat tightens when he realises. "Why?"

   He puts one forearm over his eyes. "Family."

   "What happened?"

   Hinata laughs under his breath despite himself. "You don't want to hear it."

   "Then why would I have asked?" 

   Hinata has to admit he has a point. Jin wouldn't have called if he didn't want to talk, wouldn't ask if he didn't want to know. So Hinata tells him everything, and by the time he's done the tears are threatening to spill again and Jin's voice has gone so soft he barely hears him when he says, "I would've asked you to come here if I'd known."

    Hinata's words are just as quiet. "Really?"

   "Mmhm." Even with just a hum, Jin sounds kind. "It's just me, and I've been thinking about you a lot today." At Hinata's silence, he continues. "About what gift to get you."

   Hinata rolls over onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows. "You don't have to get me anything! I- I mean, I didn't get you anything, so it wouldn't be fair."

   "But I'd like to get you things." Jin pauses, and Hinata's breath catches. "You're very special to me."

   The words send Hinata's heart racing, something like adrenaline pumping through him, making him feel floaty and light and twisted up in knots all at the same time.

   And he doesn't know if it's the tender words or the softness of Jin's voice that does it, but he knows he has to tell him. To be honest; say that this is more than just sex to him. That he never wanted this but now he'd do just about anything for this to be more than whatever muddled hormone-driven mess it is now.

   That he thinks he might actually be in love.

   He takes a deep breath, and his toes curl. "J-"

   "I could get you a vibrator."

   "What?!" Hinata shrieks, a hand flying up to cover his mouth when the word is half-out, all other thoughts forgotten. The butterflies die in his stomach just like that and he hears Jin laugh, quiet, on the line. He lowers his voice, whispering into the phone. "I wouldn't want _that_."

   Jin pretends to be offended. "And why not?"

   "What kind of guy has a-" His voice grows even more hushed with the realisation that he's never said this dirty word aloud before. "A _vibrator_?"

   "Lots of guys?" Jin is still laughing, and it makes Hinata feel light all over, his mind foggy with affection, and he can't remember why he even hesitated to pick up the phone. "I think it'd be useful for you, since you said you still can't get there on your own. Unless that's changed."

   His tone has that jaunty, flirty little twist to it that Hinata loves, and he falls onto his back again, smiles up at the ceiling, feels himself blush even though nobody can see him. "It hasn't. But I don't need to take it _that_  far, it can't be that hard to do by yourself..." he trails off, uncertain. "Right?"

   "Well, it's never been hard for me, if that's what your asking." Jin's joking, clearly, but Hinata can't help but feel like he's rubbing it in. That the fact that he can't relate clearly has everything to do with his different anatomy; Hinata is so accustomed to Jin pretending that Hinata's body is just the same as any other guy's, but it's not like it fools him. "But for some people it's difficult. Although, it's usually even more difficult for them during sex, and unless you've been faking it all this time..."

   "I haven't," Hinata replies quickly, quietly. Jin chuckles. "I think I must be... missing something."

   "Like a vibrator?"

   "No!" Hinata's laugh is stupid, high pitched, and he finds himself kicking his legs up in the air with the squirmy embarrassment. "I mean, maybe there's a... spot? Or something?" He sighs, sobering a little.

   "Or something," Jin agrees, and Hinata thinks he's about to change the subject when he suddenly asks, "How do you usually do it?"

   "Um." The question shocks Hinata so much that it takes him several seconds to finally piece a coherent answer together. His mind reels with that Jin is asking him - and the fact that Jin is undoubtedly thinking about it, picturing it, going over Hinata's tactics with that calculating mind of his. He blushes harder. "With my hands?"

   He has no idea if that's what Jin meant, but the man hums anyway in understanding. "I could walk you through it. I know that isn't exactly 'on your own', but maybe once you get the hang of it..."

   "Yeah," Hinata breathes, instant, every nerve in him tingling with the idea. "Okay. Yeah."


	17. Q is for Queer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heads up: komaeda is in this chapter. if you absolutely hate komaeda with every fibre of your being, skipping it won't have you completely lost or anything. ^^

 

   "Hinata?"

   His head snaps up at the mention of his name, and it his brain far too long to register the two girls standing beside his desk. They sit on the other side of the class and he barely knows them, but they're smiling like he should, looking hesitant and friendly, and he swallows to ease the dryness in his throat. "Yeah?"

   The bell has already gone and it's just the three of them. His bag is on his desk, still open, and he hopes they don't peek inside and notice that black box he still carries around with him every day, hoping he'll have a reason to take out what's inside.

   One of them laughs, nervous, under her breath and the other elbows her in the stomach. The first coughs, then straightens down the pleats of her skirt. "You're gay, right?"

   Hinata narrows his eyes. She doesn't sound accusing, or hopeful. She asks like she's asking about the weather. "No," he says after a brief pause. "Why?"

   The other girl looks stricken, but the one talking's expression doesn't change. "Oh, sorry," she smiles politely, bows her head in a little apology. "The queer alliance is having a get-together at lunch and I was wondering if you wanted to come with us, but-"

   "I can go," he says, too quickly, hoping his small smile explains his apparent change of heart.

   "Great!" Both girls smile, and he widens his own, feeling foolish and elated that he actually got invited to something. "It's in room 102, in the main building."

   Hinata raises an eyebrow. "The main building?"

   He knows he's allowed to go in there, since he spent the entirety of the last two terms in and out of Jin's office, but it's not exactly encouraged outside of his circumstances. He's seen faculty patrolling the halls, looking for people who don't belong there. He's heard whispered rumours of people doing it before. Trying to sneak in to get some of the gourmet cafeteria food and spends some time with the high-quality gym equipment before being unceremoniously kicked to the headmaster's office and suspended.

   "Koizumi-san said it would be okay." The girl shrugs, and her friend nods in agreement, mutely, beside her. "Plus, if you're with us, nobody will ask questions, will they?"

  
-

  
   Hinata isn't in the door of the room more than five seconds before his classmates leave his side, and he's alone in the surprising crowd of people he's never even seen before, in the building he should be banned from.

   The desks are all pushed to the walls; some of them have plates of sweets and snacks, others have students sitting on them, chatting away with each other. He knows full and well that the majority of these students are from the main campus; they exude that air, that inexplicable uniqueness even in their identical uniforms, and Hinata is so plain among them that nobody even approaches him to say hello. He stands in the doorway for what feels like several minutes before he finally works up the courage to wander around a little.

   One of the desks near the front has a lemonade pitcher and what seems to be some pieces of paper on it, so he goes there first. He pours himself a cup and smiles when he realises that the papers aren't papers at all, but little stickers; one pile that say 'my name is...', another that say 'my pronouns are...', and he takes one of both and fills them in with the pen left beside them, taking a precursory look around to check that others are wearing them first. They are, so he sticks his on, 'Hinata' and 'he/him', bold on the front of his blazer.

   Somebody else comes over for lemonade, and he freezes up, aware that he should make conversation. He has no idea where to start. Instead, he takes a sip from his paper cup and just about spits the contents out when someone right behind him says, "Hello!"

   He turns, sudden, to find a shorter girl with bright red hair smiling brightly at him. Koizumi. She/her. Her stickers are slightly obscured by the bulky camera on a strap around her neck.

   When he looks at her face again, he finds her eyes narrowed. She puts her hands on her waist, stubborn. "Were you just staring at my chest?"

   "Uh, no-" he's stammering, but he doesn't know why. "Stickers," he explains quickly, gesturing at his own.

   "Oh, I see. Of course." Her face colours a little with embarrassment, and she looks away. "Well, I'm Mahiru Koizumi, club president." She puts her hand out and meets Hinata's gaze again, and he shakes with her, his grip considerably less firm than hers. "We meet after school every Tuesday, if you want to stop by. It really is a lot of fun." She leans in then, like she's telling him a secret. "We use the budget to go out for milkshakes once a month, but keep that to yourself."

   He laughs, genuine, and she laughs too, and then excuses herself and leaves him alone again for all of two seconds before he notices that the person who came over to get lemonade is still standing there, staring at him with pale grey eyes, paper cup held loosely in one hand.

   He has to tilt his head to read the stickers. The handwriting is so messy he can barely make out 'Komaeda', he/him'.

   "You look lost," the boy says, and his voice is too soft for how wide his smile is. He's slender and tall and Hinata has never seen him out on the grounds before; everything about him makes him look like he's never seen sunlight before.

   "Yeah." Hinata scans the crowds yet again, his chest tightening with it. "I'm not... you know, a member."

   "Aha, I know." Hinata keeps his gaze steady but he can feel Komaeda's eyes on him, his lingering smile. "I think I would have noticed you."

  
-

  
   Komaeda is kind enough to show him around and introduce him to the others club members, and by the time lunch is over, he's full of lemonade and certainty that he'll be coming back next week. He stays to help clear up, since he doesn't particularly care about his next class, and Komaeda stays too. Koizumi mumbles something to him that Hinata doesn't hear before she leaves, and then it's just the two of them, pushing desks around and gathering empty paper cups up into a bin bag.

   They take a break when they're done, perched on desks and letting the ache recede from their muscles before they go to class. "So, I have to ask." Komaeda swings his legs back and forth, idle, like he's thinking. "I hope you don't think this is rude or anything, Hinata-kun, but I'd like to know, what brings you here? I mean, what's your... identity?"

   "My identity?" Hinata laughs a little at the awkward phrasing, but he supposes it's better than saying ' _what are you?_ '. "I'm..." he trails off, meeting Komaeda's eyes with hesitation. They're placid, quietly curious, and he knows that nobody in this environment is likely to run a mile if he tells them everything. The word is right on the tip of his tongue. "I'm-" _Trans_. "Uh..." He wills himself to just say it. _Transgender_. He's said it a million times, a simple word, it isn't rocket science.

   He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, giving up. "I'm bisexual."

   "Oh, really?" Komaeda replies, and for a second Hinata thinks he might be about to challenge him or something, but then smiles, shy, and adds, "That's good."

   Hinata raises an eyebrow. He's never had _that_  response before. "It's 'good'?"

   "Yes." Komaeda is a little pink around the cheeks, and Hinata doesn't have a chance to wonder why before he say,s "I was wondering if you might like to go... out with me, sometime?"

   "Oh." Hinata hears the awkwardness in his own voice and hates it. Komaeda's face falls and his mind blanks, panicking, unsure how to explain himself. "I mean, it's not- it would be good to hang out with you, you know, as friends, but I'm kind of seeing someone right now, so..." 

   He trails off, unsure of whether or not he just blatantly lied. It's not like it's really untrue. He does see Jin, three days a week. They definitely do things that aren't platonic, they certainly don't _act_  platonic, Hinata has no idea how Jin would feel about him going out with somebody else, or if he would even care at all-

   "Ah." Komaeda just keeps smiling, as calm as ever. He's concentrating on peeling his stickers off, and then he crumples them up, throwing them into the bin beside the teacher's desk. "I probably should have asked about that first." Komaeda gestures to the door, indicating that it's time to leave, but Hinata gets the feeling he doesn't want to.

   "I guess so." Hinata slings his bag over his shoulder. "But, Komaeda-" the taller boy stops in the doorway, but Hinata can't look at him while he swallows and says, "Thanks."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know ~queer alliance~ probably isn't a thing in Japan, or any high schools for that matter, but hey. Hope's Peak is a progressive school, right?


	18. R is for Research

   "I'm sorry." Hinata covers his face with his hands, not caring about the slick that smears across his forehead in his effort not to let Jin see him cry. Not when he's half-naked, not when Jin hasn't witnessed this since the blowjob fiasco all those months ago and he really doesn't want a repeat of that embarrassment. His shoulders slump and he draws his thighs closed, trying to pull himself together.

   "What for?" Hurriedly, Jin gets up off the coffee table and sits down beside him on the couch instead. He's close enough that their thighs touch, but nothing else. "What's wrong?"

   Hinata's voice comes out broken and obviously on the brink of frustrated tears. "It's not happening. I don't know why. I hate my fucking-"

   He doesn't know if he wants to say _body_ or  _vagina_ or  _emotions_  He swallows, trying to hold back that lump rising in his throat. Because it would have been so hot,   _so_ hot if this had worked out, to have his very first orgasm by his own hand while Jin is looking right at him, teaching him-

   "Hey." Jin silences him, wrapping his arm around his waist and drawing him closer for a kiss to the temple. "Slow down, Hajime." With his other hand, he gently pulls the younger boy's hands away from his face, settling them in his lap instead. "Sweetheart," he says, and something inside Hinata twists. "Do you know how long it usually takes someone with your anatomy to climax?"

   Hinata looks away, unable to stop the few tears that leak from his eyes. He can still feel his folds, soft and wet between his legs, ready if only he knew what the hell he was doing. "No."

   "About twenty minutes." Jin rubs soft little circles over his knee. He's so good at calming him down. "Do you know how long it's been?"

   "No."

   Jin checks his watch, his brows lowered. "Six."

   It takes several seconds for the number to even register in his brain.

   "Six?"

    "Six minutes. And," he adds quickly, just when Hinata grows flushed with embarrassment all over again. "That doesn't mean you should start setting a timer for twenty minutes every time you jerk off."

   Hinata can't help smiling to himself, hearing Jin use such a juvenile phrase. The man gets up off the couch and seats himself on the coffee table again, and Hinata settles his heels up on the cushions beneath him, getting the perfect view of his own slick and swollen vulva before, hesitantly, he starts to touch himself again.

  
-

 

   "What are you thinking about?"

   "Nothing."

   "It doesn't look like you're thinking about nothing." He leans forward to press a little kiss to Hinata's knee. "Looks like you're concentrating pretty hard."

   "It's... dirty."

   "Yeah?"

   "I mean it's a... pee... thing." His fingers are starting to provoke those noises again, that almost _click_  sound of wetness at his entrance. Experimentally, he reaches down with his free hand and dips a finger just inside. It goes in easy, and Jin's gaze slides down to watch. "It's really gross."

   Jin leans forward on his elbows, his expression calm, open. Genuinely curious more than flirty, but Hinata can still see where his erection is straining the front of his trousers. "I'm listening."

   "I was t-thinking," Hinata stammers a little as a sudden jolt of pleasure goes through him and he curls his toes, swallows, tries again. "What it would feel like to... go... while I'm..." he trails off, blushing hot and unable to say anymore. Just thinking about it sends filthy exhilaration all through him, down his spine and to the tips of his fingers.

   "Go slower," Jin says softly, and Hinata swears he catches the man bite his bottom lip for just a second. He hadn't meant to speed up at all, but he realises that his wrist his hurting and does just that. "Does that feel good?" Jin gestures towards Hinata's entrance, which now has one finger all the way in to the knuckle, searching futilely for his g-spot.

   He looks down, watching it disappear in and then slide out, shiny and wet. It's pretty hot to watch, but it doesn't feel like anything, so he lowers his voice and says, "Not really."

   It embarrasses him to admit it, but Jin doesn't seem fazed. "Then you should stop. It's distracting you."

   Hinata obeys immediately. He tilts his head back and lets his eyes fall closed, trying to do what Jin said. To focus on the fantasy.

   "I want to know how it feels to come when I'm-" he swallows again, squeezes his eyes shut tighter, rolls his fingers hard over his clit to distract himself and whining at how good it feels. "Y-you know."

   Jin chuckles under his breath. "I'd bet that feels incredible." Jin's trailing his fingers lightly over Hinata's ankle, and it's a gentle touch but he feels it amplified by a million, not even caring anymore that the man is watching him doing what he's only done before in private; has his full attention on where Hinata is clumsily pleasuring himself, so obviously inexperienced.

   "A little faster, now." Hinata adjusts his pace until Jin nods his approval. The new intensity has him moaning, his shoulders shaking until he gets used to it. It feels so much better having waited for it. "Don't tense up," Jin commands suddenly, and Hinata tries his hardest to relax, to keep his little circles even. "Don't you dare come until I tell you." 

   Hinata gasps, has to grit his teeth against the temptation to go harder. He glances down at himself, his tanned skin fading into flushed pink, his body reacting just for him. "I've never gotten this close," he tells Jin, struggling to keep his voice steady. It doesn't work. He sounds wrecked, and he knows it.

   "Close your eyes. Don't think about it." He wraps his hands around Hinata's ankles and pushes them back and apart, spreading Hinata's legs wider and making him groan at the exposure. His voice is so soft, so gentle again, and Hinata is so glad he has someone like Jin to guide him through this. "Tell me more about your fantasies. Come on."

   Hinata sighs happily, shifting a little to get more comfortable and relaxed. He can't believe how calm he feels, all spread out like this. That it doesn't even faze him, now, to do this right in front of someone, because he trusts Jin more than he's ever trusted anyone in his life.

   "I'm thinking about how it feels when you eat me out. And- and your dick-" Hinata knows it sounds so weak, so made up, but it's hard to voice what's flashing through his head. Memories of Jin's mouth on him mingling with imagined scenarios of being bent over his desk and fucked, of Jin coming inside him and leaving him to feel it leak into his underwear all day, something he's never even considered in the light of day until now. "And... and what you said about- oh-" he's squirming, unable to help the way his hips can't stay still, the pleasure making him spasm. "Oh, god- Jin-"

   "Yeah," Jin urges him, low and possessive and Hinata doesn't open his eyes but he can tell Jin is still staring at him, staring right at where he can feel slick dripping from his entrance all the way down over his ass, staining the couch.

   He makes a strange, needy, broken sound and rubs faster without permission, and if not for Jin holding his ankles in place he probably would have slid right off the couch with how much he's twitching and trembling, close to the edge but not close enough, and he's still not allowed-

   "I want you to finger me. Inside. I want you to make me squirt, I want-" he cries out then, a spark of pleasure coursing through him that's so intense he it's over but it's not, not quite- "You to put a collar on me and- and- _oh_ -"

   He's not even thinking anymore, just touching, and it feels electric. His hands are shaking so much he thinks, for a moment of panic, that he might need Jin to finish him off because it's too intense, and it's _so_  much easier when all he has to do is lie there and moan.

   "I want you to make me come while I p-piss all over m-myself," he babbles, "And then f-fuck my mouth as punishment for making a mess-" Hinata's eyes grow wide at his own words, not even knowing what dark recess of his mind they're coming out of at this point, but in the moment it's the hottest thing in the world and he's so close, so close he could explode, and he whines again, lifting his hips right off the couch, his mind going blank but for his mantra of, "F-fuck, fuck..."

   "How does someone as cute as you have such a dirty mouth?" Jin muses, so ridiculously calm compared to the writhing mess before him, and it makes humiliation burn hot and low in Hinata's stomach. "You put on such a good show for me." He kisses Hinata's shin, then his knee, keeping his distance. He pauses, thoughtful, and Hinata's breath catches, coming out in a giggly rush of relief and joy when Jin finally says, "Go ahead."

  
-

  
   The sentence is almost lost over the sound of Jin zipping himself back up, after having just finished himself off all over Hinata's thighs, leaving the younger boy to watch in his post-orgasm daze. Hinata trails his fingers through the fluid that's all over his skin and the couch between his legs, aware that he should be disgusted but feeling nothing but tranquil, and he was just about to comment on how ruined the fabric is when Jin said it.

   "Anywhere you want," he adds when Hinata does nothing but stare at him, unblinking and unbelieving. He's around the other side of his desk, but approaches with a packet of baby wipes and some clean underwear that looks about Hinata's size. "You must be starving, after all that."

   "Are those mine?" Hinata nods towards the underwear just as Jin settles down on the coffee table and starts wiping the mess off Hinata's thighs.

   Jin smiles, cordial, swiping a different wipe over Hinata's entrance once, and it feels strange, the lack of agency. He settles his heels on the coffee table and pushes up when Jin slides his underwear on, helping him out. "They are now. It's good to be prepared, right? I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable tonight."

    _Tonight_. Jin says it like it's a date, and all at once it hits him that they'll be out together, in public, _together_. And granted, it's unlikely they'll be holding hands and making out in the back of taxis, but it's something. It's time.

   He looks forlornly down at himself, shirt still miraculously clean but obviously uniform. "I don't have any other clothes."

   "Lose the tie and the blazer and you're business-casual," Jin remarks, leaning in for a quick kiss before he straightens up and begins adjusting his own clothing, leaving Hinata to get dressed and try not to pass out from the delight flooding his brain.

 

~*~

 

   They drive in Jin's car, which is all leather and beige and class and Hinata wonders how many people have been in this position. In this same passenger seat, listening to this same CD of some indie-folk band with Jin humming along next to them, staring out of the same window in the same city and going on the same date.

   It makes his chest burn to think about it, so he tries to stop.

   "So?" Jin prompts after a few blocks of idle travelling. He glances at Hinata and Hinata glances back, realising with a sinking dread that Jin looks so at home here, so in place with his nice suit and his nice car, and he's just some clueless teenager with messy hair and no experience with Jin-Kirigiri-grade restaurants at all.

   At Hinata's stricken look, Jin's brow creases and he asks, "Are you alright?"

   Hinata doesn't say anything. He can't. Jin reaches over and takes his hand, carefully settling it on the gearstick with their fingers still laced together, and Jin is looking at the road again.

  
-

  
   The place Jin picks is dark and quiet but not at all shady, and Hinata finds himself staring at the flickering candle on the table while Jin reads the menu, not even wanting to subject himself to the rows and rows of meals he undoubtedly won't recognise. "Should I order for you?" Jin asks, light, and Hinata nods.

   He doesn't even know how to behave in a place like this. Not that it's _that_  fancy, not really, but the other tables are occupied by people much older than himself, so tidily dressed, probably bankers and doctors and headmasters.

   Jin orders sparkling water for himself and a coke for Hinata, and he feels himself burn with embarrassment.

   When the drinks come, Jin steeples his fingers on the table in front of him. "There's something I'd like to talk to you about."

   Hinata sips his drink and says nothing. If he wasn't so achingly nervous, he's think this was some kind of proposal. A confession. But he can tell from the look on Jin's face that it's nothing romantic, so he chooses not to dwell on it, swallowing the lump in his throat instead.

   "A few weeks ago, you asked me about the project Matsuda has been working on." Jin rests his elbows on the table and looks straight into Hinata's eyes while he speaks. "And months ago, you asked me about Izuru Kamukura's goal when he founded this school... you remember that, don't you?"

   Hinata nods. "Yes."

   "Well, it just so happens that those things are connected." Jin clears his throat. "You may not know this, but Hope's Peak isn't just a high school. It also functions as a research facility." Hinata raises his eyebrows, but doesn't interrupt. "We have scientists on staff who study the nature of talent, and the minds of the students in the main program. And," he continues. "What Izuru Kamukura wanted was to not only understand talent, but to be able to create it. To inject it, if you will, into those without talent, for the good of mankind."

   He looks at Hinata like he's waiting for a response, but Hinata doesn't have one. He just drinks some more, trying to take in what Jin is taking about.

   Again, Jin clears his throat. "We think we've finally reached a point where that's possible." 

   A silence stretches on between them for several seconds, and Jin is obviously waiting for questions now, or maybe praise; Hinata can't tell, but he has neither.

    "We have the theory, we have top medical staff, and the funding to finally make this happen, after almost eighty years of work." Jin looks him dead in the eyes, and Hinata knows where this is going. "All we need now is a student."

   His voice comes out flat. "To test on?"

   "Oh, it's not a test," Jin replies quickly. There's no risk involved. The student in question will be more of an example; proof that this kind of neural modification is possible. He or she will be the pride of this school, without a doubt." He smiles, and Hinata sees the pride in that, too. "They would attend classes in the main program, of course, and with all the government funding the school would receive once we can show that the project is viable..." Jin straights up a little more, fixes Hinata with a calm, steady gaze. "We would be able to give them anything they want."

   Hinata blinks once, and then again. "You're asking me?"

   "I'm not asking you. I'm offering this to you." The food arrives and Jin says nothing more, eating slowly and focusing on his bowl while Hinata only picks at his own, unsure what else to do with himself. Jin's words echo in his mind from all those months ago.

_You don't work your way to a position like mine without taking the challenges that are offered to you._

   "There's no hurry to decide," Jin says when his plate is emptied but Hinata's is still untouched. "This is a mutually beneficial agreement. I hope you understand that."

   "'Neural modification'..." Hinata trails off, numb and lost in thought. He isn't sure he understands a single thing Jin just said to him, even though he knows he should have. "What does that mean?"

   Jin is patient as always. "The procedure is carried out through surgery. Matsuda assures me it's nothing more complicated than standard, in that respect." He sounds confident. Hinata doesn't know how he can just take the word of a third year student as truth, but then, he's never seen Matsuda at work. He must be one of the most esteemed in his field already, and he's only in his teens. "The recovery will take a couple of months, but after that." He gestures by spreading his palms before him and moving them outwards, away from each other. "Everything."

   "Everything?"

   "Every piece of data we've collected from talented students would be inside your mind. There would be almost no limit to what you'd be capable of, Hinata. This research is paving the way to something incredible." Hinata doesn't miss the excitement leaking into his voice through his practised calm. "Have you learned about vaccines yet, in any of yours classes?"

    Hinata doesn't know what to say, so he just asks. "Vaccines?"

   "When I was in university, I took a class on biochemistry." Hinata tilts his head to one side, unsure of what this has to do with what he just asked, but he lets Jin speak. The man clears his throat and his eyes swivel momentarily upwards, remembering. "My professor had us sit down and learn the names of every child who served as a test subject for every major vaccine. Children," he continued, "who were willing to give up everything for a chance at immunity, for themselves and mankind. Children whose names are still remembered today, alongside the names of the doctors they worked with. They're responsible for shielding generations from polio, diphtheria, measles... and some of them sacrificed their lives. All you would have to give up is a few months of your time."

   Again, Hinata says nothing. He doesn't know if Jin is expecting a real answer or not, but luckily just then the waitress appears with the bill, and through the white noise in his head he can hear him talking to her, making light conversation, so distant from the shock that's reverberating through Hinata's nerves.

   "As I said, you have plenty of time to think about this." Jin gets to his feet and Hinata does too, dazed. "Incidentally," Jin says, pushing his chair back in and then heading for the door, Hinata at his heels. "I discussed it with your surgeon..." and Hinata doesn't miss that it's _his_  surgeon now, not just _the_  surgeon for some anonymous patient. "He said that since you'll be in recovery for quite a while, and most likely incoherent for weeks, he would be willing to perform top surgery for you during that period. To kill two birds with one stone, in a sense." Hinata stops in his tracks, certain he misheard, but Jin just keeps talking. "Of course, it's not mandatory by any means. The offer will still be there any time." Hinata doesn't follow him, can't; he's rooted to the ground, frozen, mind reeling. Jin turns back, looking mildly surprised at Hinata's reaction. He takes the younger boy's hand and squeezes it softly, and smiles that same calm smile. "After all, it's only fair that we do everything we can to make sure that the spokesperson for our research is comfortable, isn't it?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i like to call this one 'should've been 2 chapters but got smushed into one bc alphabet meme' :')


	19. S is for Submissive

 

   It's bullshit." One of them, a boy who Hinata is pretty sure is a second year, slams his fist down on the table. "Complete bullshit. It's like they're punishing us for not being one of them."

   It's all he hears in the cafeteria for days. He wonders what they say in the main building, whether they even know or care about the timetable adjustments. He sits in chemistry and watches the street outside stream with Hope's Peak uniforms, and at the next tennis practice, he can tell Nidai is trying to hide that he's disgruntled about having to wait an hour for them.

   "How can they get away with this?" he hears one teammate say to another, right there on the court, before the ball comes at her and she hits it, hard, the crack as sharp and loud as a gunshot. "Giving us another extra hour of classes? Isn't that illegal?"

   Jin looks more and more exhausted every time Hinata sees him, which is considerably more often now. He teaches Hinata's geography class every day, and from how often he's walking the reserve building's corridors, Hinata supposes he must be taking quite a few other classes as well.

   The talk evaporates when the headmaster starts to spend lunchtimes by the door with his arms folded, gaze sweeping over and over the cafeteria, eagle-eyed, bloodshot.

 

-

 

   Hinata finds the office door unlocked and slips inside, takes the spare key on the filing cabinet beside the door, locks it behind him and strips. He fastens his collar around his neck and then sits down on the floor beside Jin's desk chair, head bowed and knees tucked under himself, waiting.

   His heartbeat doesn't slow for a moment.

   His knees are sore and surely bruising by the time Jin finally comes back. He doesn't even notice Hinata at first. He watches mutely as the headmaster removes his suit jacket, carefully folds it up, and flips through some papers he has piled on the bookshelf on the other side of the room, mumbling something about 'thought I left that door open', and all at once he turns and he sees and Hinata's gaze snaps down to the floor again.  
  
   He inhales sharply and Hinata tries not to squirm.

   "Good puppy," he says, barely even hesitating. Hinata's breath catches in his throat, dizzy with anticipation. "Waiting so patiently for me all this time." He approaches, his weight creaking the finely-polished wooden floor, and cards his fingers through Hinata's hair, a little more roughly than he expected. It feels good, and he lets himself exhale. "So well-trained, aren't you?" He meets his master's gaze with wide eyes.   
  
   Jin keeps stroking while he sits down in his chair, parting his legs so Hinata can shuffle to sit under the desk and between them. He starts messing with his paperwork again, one hand stroking Hinata's hair all the time, dipping to caress the side of his face and brush against his collar every so often. Jin isn't hard yet, but Hinata can feel his sex pulsing where his heel is pressing against it, and wonders just what it is about this man that can get him riled up from nothing more than this.

   "You knew I needed a little stress relief, didn't you?" he says when he abruptly decides to stop teasing and unzips his trousers, and Hinata is ready in a heartbeat. Jin's dick is barely more than flaccid, and Hinata has never seen it like this before and he almost laughs because wow, penises look ridiculous sometimes - but he composes himself and leans in, chastely kissing the head and feeling it react under his lips.

   He kisses and licks at it carefully until it's hard enough to wrap his hand around the base and set an even pace, or as even as he can manage. Jin's hand is still in his hair, alternately stroking and gripping, and he's silent but for his breathing. Hinata is silent too, because pets don't speak.

   He can't believe he was so afraid of this. He braces himself steady on Jin's thigh before he takes his cock into his mouth as much as he can, trying and honestly failing to adjust to the way it feels, the taste so heavy on his tongue. It's so unnatural, to have his mouth full and stretched this way without the urge to bite down, but he tries not to dwell on biting. He's aware that it won't get him far.

   "Good boy," Jin is saying, breathless, and Hinata wishes he could smile. He wishes he could see the flush rising on the man's face, the pleasure he must be feeling even though Hinata is admittedly clumsy and working shallowly, afraid to choke. "God, you're such a good boy, puppy, so good for me-"

  
-

  
   It's darkening when Hinata gets home, coming in the front door and straight up the stairs, into his room, and falling face down on his bed. He breathes in deep, again and again, and then scrambles to get underneath the covers and wiggle his trousers off, underwear too, only taking a moment to marvel at how wet he is before he's full-on jerking off, shaky moans spilling from his lips because he's already so close.

   Jin sent him home squirming, with his coat zipped all the way up to hide the collar he wasn't allowed to take off. He had strict instructions to go home that way, get himself off, and then text Jin with the details afterwards.

   He has no struggle thinking of fantasies this time, not when he just sucked Jin off under his desk - not when he could still remember everything, the erratic flexing of Jin's stomach muscles with his desperate breaths and the broken sound he made when he came, jerking Hinata's head back at the last second and splattering his face with it, and it should've been disgusting but Hinata was sure it was the most content he'd ever felt. With Jin kissing his still-messy lips, cleaning him up, claiming and owning and taking care of him.

   He's probably being loud, but he doesn't care. He arches his back, lifting his hips right off the bed for better access, and _fuck_  it feels good like this, his fingers moving fast and unrelenting. He doesn't break his pace until he can't keep it up anymore, because he's so close but it's not quite enough, not quite.

   By the time he's called for dinner, he's just laying there, tracing around and around his clit lazily. He doesn't know where the wetness goes; how his arousal can just evaporate, the pleasure turning to bruised pain and cramped muscles and surely this is the most basic thing a human can do but here he is, unsated and exhausted. He dresses and removes the stupid collar, throws it forcefully down onto his desk, and text Jin to say he came so hard, even twice, and _thank you, master_

 


	20. T is for Trust

   The next day, he shows up five minutes late to practice, only to find Nidai sitting alone on the grass beside the court, staring down at a clipboard in his hands. Hinata approaches carefully, treading light on the grass.

   Nidai hears him when he's metres away. Hinata freezes, but the older boy just gets to his feet and waves him closer, smiling in a way that's obviously forced, even from far away. "Hinata!" he greets him when he's close enough, ruffling his hair with one big hand, and for a moment it reminds him of Jin and he flushes red and looks away.

   "Where is everyone?" Hinata looks around like they could be hiding.

   "Well..." Nidai puts a hand to the back of his own neck, and grimaces. "There's a problem with..." he trails off, thinking about it. "I don't know what with, but long story short, I got word today that all the clubs are being disbanded until further notice."

   "What?" Hinata balks, but Nidai only shrugs. "But we have a game next week-"

   "I know." Nidai rubs at one eye with the heel of his palm, and all at once Hinata feels terrible for fussing, because he was never even a fraction as passionate about the team as Nidai. He bounces back quickly, taking a pen from his pocket and scratching what must be Hinata's name off on the clipboard with another forced grin. "But the most important thing is to stay positive and not let this hurt our fighting spirit! Kirigiri's heard enough about it from the other clubs, anyway, and after the timetable thing-"

   Hinata narrows his eyes, something flaring deep in the cavity of his chest. "Kirigiri decided this?"

   "He told me about it, so most likely!" Nidai gives a firm nod, and his voice gets louder with every sentence. "But the man is an incredible leader! So this will, undoubtedly, be sorted in days!"

   "Right." Hinata nods back, but shakily, and turns away before Nidai can notice the way he's trembling.

  
-

  
   "Hajime." Jin silences him with a withering glare, and Hinata falls back, throat working to swallow the back the tears that are threatening to spill. "You have no idea what's going on in this school. _No idea_  what measures we have to take to prevent a catastrophe." Hinata opens his mouth to respond, but Jin doesn't let him. "No. You don't."

   "'Measures'?" Hinata doesn't mean to yell, and he knows he's being disrespectful but in the heat of the moment he doesn't care. They're both standing with hands fisted at their sides, neither backing down. "It's a tennis club, Jin!"

   "It's a _mixed_  club," Jin corrects him, and it takes Hinata a moment to infer from his tone that he doesn't mean gender. "Haven't you seen the way things work at this school? It's better for everyone if the talented students don't interact with the reserves. I thought I could trust them with simple _clubs_ , but then that damn-"

   "We haven't done anything wrong." Hinata's tone is firm, and he doesn't even try to hide his anger. He must look ridiculous, still in his gym shorts, trying to look formidable despite how clearly inferior he is to JIn.  
  
   "It wasn't _you_." Jin rolls his eyes, and he isn't shouting anymore but he seems on the edge of losing his composure again. "We found out that one of the club leaders was allowing reserve students into the main campus building for some kind of mixer," and the disgust in his voice is obvious and Hinata's skin prickles with it, "and in this climate, that isn't safe for any of them. You know how things are." His voice softens just a little. "The other reserves aren't like you. They don't understand."

   Hinata squeezes his eyes shut, desperate not to let it show on his face that he knows exactly who Jin is talking about. To hide the crawling realisation that he may never see Komaeda again, that Koizumi must be in realms of trouble now. He opens them with a snap, his breathing ragged. "They don't understand what?"

   Jin looks away, thoughtful for a moment, and he's shaking too, though barely. "They don't know their place. That's why you're so special." He reaches for Hinata's hand, and he goes slack and lets him entwine their fingers. "I know I can trust you, Hajime."

   "You really think this is for the best." It isn't a question, but Jin considers him anyway, and he feels so small and fragile under the other man's gaze, like he could be broken apart in a moment.

   "Everything I do is for the good of this school." And with the way Jin's eyes are wide and innocent, determined, hurt all in one, how could he be lying? "The students have been segregated for years, and the moment the walls come down just a little, this happens. Isn't it obvious what needs to be done?"

   Hinata nods, hesitantly. 

   "You'll be one of them soon, and then you won't have to worry about any of this." Before he can even react, Jin bends and picks him up, supporting him under his ass and Hinata wraps his legs around the man's waist instinctively, wrists crossed behind Jin's neck, over his shirt collar. He lets himself lean into his sturdy body, so close their lips brush when Jin says, "Won't you?"

   "I'm still thinking about it," Hinata reminds him, but Jin only smiles against his mouth and kisses him slowly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more like t is for thank god the tennis club subplot is over


	21. U is for Ugly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N two things:  
> \- i know it's bad writing that i have to actually say this, but jin doesn't drug hinata in this chapter. looks weird to say that right off the bat, but i'm just. clarifying. that's not a thing that occurs. he is just naturally tired.  
> \- that said, this is where the dubcon really sets in, so please be careful if you somehow got this far without reading the tags!

   The project saps Jin's time anyway, so Hinata sees him more and more outside of school. They drive outside the city and take walks, up and down nature trails, in and out of little family-owned restaurants by the coast. It doesn't stop Jin looking tired, dragging his feet, rubbing at his muscles like they ache. But it seems to do something to brighten him up, a little more each time.

   Out in the forest, they can hold hands without worrying about stares.

 

   The first time Jin takes Hinata to his apartment, it's pouring down and he convinces Hinata with gentle words to accept a change of clothes. He waddles out of Jin's bathroom - _Jin's_  bathroom - in too-big sweatpants rolled over at the hip and the ankles, and a shirt that hangs right off his shoulder, and he never realised there was such a difference in their size until he tried to wear the man's clothes. They don't do much - they're warm and dry, but his binder is still soaked through and the skin beneath it itches horribly.

   He tries not to let the discomfort show as he sits down on _Jin_ 's couch, and accepts a mug full of tea that _Jin_  made, and it's all so overwhelming. That nice smell of him is everywhere. It's in the leather sofa and the soft fabric of the clothes and light in the air, too.

   The place is such a bachelor pad. It's modest and modern, and Hinata isn't all that surprised. It's not long before they go from cordial tea-sipping to watching TV like a real couple, with Hinata somehow ending up laying on his front in Jin's lap while his fingers wander beneath the hem of the ridiculous shirt, teasing around the bottom of his spine, just stroking.

   Every little touch brings Hinata closer to falling asleep. He mumbles against Jin's thigh, eyes closed. "You must have kinks too."

   Jin just laughs, warm and under his breath. "Do you ever stop thinking about sex?" he says, and Hinata is glad he's joking because if he gives it some real thought, that answer might actually be 'no'.

   "It's just that I've never asked." He snuggles in closer, and it feels so natural. Jin slips his hand up the back of Hinata's shirt and starts to rub his palm in small circles over his back, skirting over the notches of his spine and smoothing up, up, across his skin. His fingers brush against the binder and Hinata feels him stop breathing for just a moment before he tries and fails to touch beneath it. "It's tight for a reason," Hinata reminds him, sleepy enough to be playful about it.

   "It's soaked," Jin replies, much less playfully. He rubs over the fabric instead, undoubtedly feeling it damp beneath his palm. "Isn't this hurting you?"

   Hinata only huffs out a breath, because it is, a little, but he can cope. "Kinks," he says as a reminder, and he can just about feel the way Jin rolls his eyes, and smiles tight. "Please, indulge me."

   "Alright," Jin says thoughtfully. "Well, I'm sure you've figured out by now that I'm not exactly adverse to watersports."

   Hinata hums in agreement. "Me neither," he says, just for the tiny laugh he knows it'll get. "But 'not exactly adverse' isn't the same as a major thing."

   "Would you believe me if I said I'm not as kinky as you?" His touch wanders up to the back of Hinata's neck, and there must be some kind of pressure point there because when he starts to knead the muscle, Hinata groans and everything in him seems go to just a little slack. "Other than that- small- detail-" he continues, and with every word he presses down with his fingers so perfectly, "There's just one thing that I _really_  like."

   "Tell me," Hinata gasps out right when Jin stops working on his neck and trails his fingernails sharp down his back, not enough to really hurt.

   Jin's hand settles at the base of his spine again, heavy and warm. "Partner sharing," he says, his voice low, like it's a secret. "Knowing that the person I'm with is fucking someone else. Having them tell me about it while we..." he trails off into silence, stroking lightly over Hinata's lower back. "Seeing them full of someone else's come. I can't even explain what it does to me."

   Hinata only hums again, unsure whether an enthusiastic response is really appropriate. It doesn't do much for him. He knows, quietly and surely, that he would be jealous if Jin was with anyone else, but he can see why it would be sexy, from an outsider's perspective.

   And he doesn't really have room to judge. Not after what he and Jin have already done.

   He'd laugh about it later, but for now the thought somehow lulls him to finally fall asleep, right there in Jin's lap, warm and safe and content.

  
-

   
   He gets home still half asleep, his hair all in disarray and his clothes looking nothing short of crumpled. It's dark outside, and he can only brace himself against the lecture that's sure to come. Cautious, he wanders into the kitchen, and sure enough his mother is there, nursing a cup of coffee and looking less than impressed.

   "I'm sorry," he says before she can begin. "I was at a friend's house and I ended up falling asleep, I didn't know how late it was until-"

   "Hajime." She silences him, softly. "Don't pretend. I know you're seeing someone. Just make sure you call next time you'll be home late, okay?"

   His mouth is dry, and he can only stand there, frozen. "What do you mean, you know I'm seeing someone?"

   She cracks a tiny smile. "It's obvious! The way you're always out late, and on the phone, and you have a little-" she stops and gestures to her own neck, and Hinata flushes pink, touching two fingers to where he knows he has a tender bruise that he usually remembers to hide. "I told you, a mother always knows." She strides over and pulls him into a tight hug that he only stays rigid through, mind still stuttering and uncomprehending. She pulls back and holds him at arms length. "So? What's his name?"

   "His name?" Hinata's eyes dart around the room, his mind blank. His parents don't pry into his personal life that much, but he's pretty sure they'd recognise the name of his _headmaster_. And if they decided to do a little research, well...

   He clears this throat. "Nagito. Nagito Komaeda."

   "Nagito Komaeda," she repeats, testing the unusual name on her tongue. And then she releases him, and she's leaving, and he still can't move for the way his heart is hammering in his chest. "Invite him around for dinner sometime, okay?" she says from the doorway, and then she leaves him there in the middle of the kitchen with his mind spinning so fast he feels like he could vomit.

  
-

  
   He's called to Jin's office early the next morning. The main building doors are locked up tight during class hours now, but Jin is there to let him in with his key-card, and he's silent all through the walk.

   As soon as they're behind the closed door, Jin pushes him up against it and kisses him, gently at first to test the waters but then hard and passionate when Hinata responds. Just when he feels like his lips might be starting to bruise, Jin is blindly unfastening the younger boy's tie, his fingertips occasionally brushing Hinata's skin as he fumbles with the buttons on his shirt.

   And this isn't the first time Hinata has marvelled at his own ability to go from zero to turned on in minutes flat. He lets Jin lift him, wraps his legs tight around the man's waist as he's carried, giggling, to the desk and sat down on top of it, his trousers being shucked off as soon as possible. He just sits there in underwear while Jin wanders across the room and starts stripping off, and it's enough to make Hinata's jaw drop because he rarely never does.

   "Jin," he breathes by way of a compliment, admiring how toned he is - not ripped, or anything, but clearly fit. But then Jin produces new clothes from a filing cabinet, and puts them on instead. A grey t-shirt that looks paint-splattered, and worn jeans. Hinata raises an eyebrow when he turns around. "Are we going somewhere?"

   "It's just impractical," he explains as he returns, settling down in the chair and peppering Hinata's neck with little kisses. "To have you making a mess of my work clothes all the time, don't you think?" Hinata is about to repond when Jin adds, "But being clothed makes it hotter, right?"

   His face heats up, and Jin kisses lower, biting gently at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. "So I'll be making a mess?"

   "You need some water?" Jin mumbles against his skin in lieu of an answer, and Hinata shakes his head.

   "I was going to hold through class," he says, quiet, like it's a secret. He tips his head back, letting Jin mouth along his neck, up to his jaw, swiping his tongue over the younger boy's earlobe.

  
-

  
   Jin explains it hushed while he removes Hinata's underwear, strokes his hair and kisses him in between sentences. "And I want you naked," he says, standing with a hand on each of Hinata's thighs, spreading them easily. "I want this to be good for you." He lowers his voice and Hinata swears his own heart stops for a moment. "To touch you everywhere."

   He blinks once, twice, and then nods, a lump rising in his throat as Jin attempts to blindly unfasten his binder from the front. Hinata does it for him, snapping the side hooks apart easily and then removing it with just a tiny bit of hesitance. The way Jin is looking at him is what calms him down. Like he's gorgeous regardless. Like he's perfect.

   He sets the garment down on the desk and instinctively crosses his arms over his torso. His chest isn't small - he wishes it was, but the binder only barely flattens it, and it's impossible to cover everything with just his arms. Jin keeps his distance, taking his seat again while Hinata tries his hardest to relax.

  
-

  
   Jin goes down on him until he's shaking, weak arms just barely holding him up, his eyes closed and teeth gritted as he nears the edge. Every so often, Jin stops abruptly and kisses up his stomach, over his chest, flicking his tongue over one of Hinata's nipples and smirking at the way he shudders at the feeling. It's not so bad with his eyes closed. He can pretend that it's smooth muscle, and enjoy the tingles of pleasure it sends through him. But he can't pretend when Jin cups his other breast in his hand and tweaks his nipple between two fingers, and tears sting his eyes when he feels himself grow even wetter.

   Jin speaks to him from between his legs, holding them apart as they twitch and spasm erratically with this approaching orgasm. "Just let go," he says, suddenly, when Hinata's moans have fallen into a harsh litany of 'oh- oh- oh-' and the heel of Jin's palm presses down hard on his bladder, making him sob and cry out.

   "Jin, your mouth-" he says, helplessly tangling his fingers in Jin's hair. But his headmaster just looks calmly up at him, kneading at his lower abdomen, tongue flicking so perfectly over his clit as he crashes over the edge with a spasm and an, " _oh, fuck!_ "

   His muscles go slack and he sees more than feels the urine gushing from him. Jin just licks him through it, not moving even as the fluid flows right between his lips, down his chin, and Hinata feels another hard pulse of pleasure hit when he realises that Jin must be able to _taste_  it, something even he has never done before.

   He couldn't stop it if he tried. He's never felt so light, so free and vulnerable and _gone_ as his vision whites out and he hears himself moaning Jin's name again.

   His arms give out, turned to jelly, and he falls back onto the desk, weakly bucking his hips through the last of his orgasm. He doesn't know when the tears started but he can feel them, warm and wet on his cheeks, but not as warm as the liquid all over the inside of his thighs, pooling under his ass. He gives up and lets himself cry, too overwhelmed to do anything else.

  
-

  
   Jin cleans him up as best as he can and sends him down to the changing rooms for a shower. Hinata hovers in the doorway before he goes. His own face is still splotchy-red from his tears, and Jin's clothes are wrecked, and he's too afraid to go in for a goodbye kiss just in case it tastes horrible and he has to deal with the embarrassment. 

 

   "Can you do me a favour?" he asks before he goes, while Jin is still making himself presentable. He clears this throat, tracing fingers up and down where the paint on the doorframe is starting to peel. "Can you get a student's number for me?"

 

 


	22. V is for Virgin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to the surprise of probably nobody, this chapter contains explicit komaeda/hinata. also, the tags have been updated!

   It takes only weeks.

   Komaeda doesn't question how Hinata got his number, and when Hinata says he's in the class above him in the main program, the white-haired boy just laps it up. Hinata is sure he only _wants_  to believe it, but then, that could be his cynicism talking.

   Their first date is nothing more than a walk down the beach, looking out at the sea and talking about school, television, food, and whatever other generic things Hinata can feign an interest in.

   "What happened to your hand?" Komaeda asks when he reaches out to hold it, and notices the bandages, wrapped tight and stained with blood at the knuckles.

   Hinata just shrugs it off. "Accident," he says, and Komaeda doesn't ask anything more.

  
-

  
   Komaeda has his own apartment, and Hinata can't help but gush about it the first time they go there together after school. It's small, and plain, and not at all like Jin's, but the tea is better and Komaeda doesn't mind when Hinata accidentally spills some on the carpet.

   And it's a good sign. Hinata needs gentle. Needs safe.

   Komaeda's bed is plush with blood-red sheets and they spend hours sitting cross-legged, facing each other while he's talked through his first, then second, and third, and eventually fourth game of Magic: The Gathering. The words spill out of Komaeda's mouth like they've been pent up for a long time, and Hinata wonders how a kid this lonely and unassuming had the nerve to walk right up and ask him out on their first meeting.

   Not that he minds at all. Without Komaeda's eagerness, he would have never found the nerve to do this. To do what he can to give back to Jin, after everything he's been gifted.

   They say goodbye at Komaeda's front door, and Hinata only hesitates for a moment before he swallows his nerves and looks him in the eyes. He lowers his voice, playing shy, and says, "Can I kiss you?"

   Komaeda blinks like he doesn't understand, and his gaze slides down to Hinata's lips for a moment before he nods jerkily and his entire body seems to go tense. He looks away. "If you want, Hinata-kun, though I can't imagine why, I'm absolutely unworth-"

   "Hey." Hinata cuts him off, trying not to show how taken aback he is by the sudden outburst. "I think you're cute." Komaeda meets his eyes uncertainly, but keeps his mouth shut this time. "This isn't your first, is it?"

   The heat that floods Komaeda's formerly-pale cheeks is enough of an answer. Hinata steps closer, reaching to take Komaeda's hands and finding them clammy. He hopes his small smile is calm instead of creepy as he leans in and, carefully, presses their lips together for just long enough to hear the happy sigh Komaeda can't seem to hold back.

  
-

  
   "I've been thinking about things." Hinata is stretched, languid, on Jin's couch, half-reading a textbook while Jin works. He doesn't look up, but he hears the typing stop.

   "What things?" Jin prompts when Hinata doesn't elaborate. He sounds genuinely interested, and Hinata smiles just a little, dropping the book over his face like a curtain to hide it while he speaks, not caring about the way his voice muffled and his breath goes humid on the thick, plasticy paper.

   "How much I'd miss you if you picked someone else." It sends an anxious shiver through him to say something to honest. So raw and straight from the cliche depths of his heart. "Would you still have time for me?"

   Jin doesn't hesitate with his answer. "Honestly? I doubt it." The typing starts up again before he's finished speaking. "I barely have time for you as it is, Hajime."

  
-

  
   Komaeda doesn't ask questions, and that's what Hinata likes the most about him.

   He doesn't ask about Hinata's class, or why he's never around at lunch, or why he doesn't leave the school at three-thirty with the rest of the main program. He doesn't ask why Hinata tells him to arrive an hour early at the grounds and them proceeds to drag him to the changing rooms by the tennis court, going behind the building instead of inside, shielded enough by brick and fence and trees that nobody is likely to see them.

   Komaeda responds just as enthusiastically to his kisses, and even produces a soft whine when Hinata starts palming at the crotch of his trousers. He doesn't even have questions when, after Hinata takes his cold and trembling hand and shoves it down into his own underwear, he feels slick wetness where he must have been expecting hard heat. He just widens his eyes, swallows hard, and takes it in stride.

   And that's what Hinata likes the most about him.

  
-

  
   "A-are you serious?" Komaeda asks, his voice having the audacity to crack on the first word. Hinata can't believe he's saying such a thing while he's sitting down, in the grass, with his pants around his ankles and his dick hard and flushed from Hinata's ministrations.

   "If you want it," Hinata replies airily, because Komaeda is a teenage boy, and rejection is almost not even an option from the hormones that must be screaming in him, the urges bubbling up beneath that unassuming demeanour. He removes his own trousers, and then his underwear. There's virtually no chance of someone catching them, but if they did, he has no doubt that Jin would be able to get him off the hook.

   Lower half bare, and the early-spring breeze stinging at his exposed skin, Hinata poses himself with his knees bracketing Komaeda's thighs. He takes Komaeda's dick in his hand again, stroking languidly while he presses chaste kisses to his slack mouth. It's nice; not too thick, not to long, but substantial enough that Hinata should feel _something_. That he should be all red and swollen and loose when he returns to Jin later, obviously fucked, obviously sated.

   "I really like you," Hinata breathes at Komaeda's lack of an answer. The taller boy nods, swallows hard. His hands settle hesitantly on Hinata's hips, the bare skin so sensitive in the cold.

   "Hinata-kun." Komaeda's voice is raspy, like it's taking a lot of effort to speak, and Hinata wonders if all the blood in his brain really did rush to his dick. "Isn't it... don't you need more foreplay, if we're going to-?" He pauses, then laughs a little under his breath, gaze going skyward as he tilts his head back. "I barely know anything about this."

   Hinata just hums and shakes his head. "I'm fine," he says, angling his wrist and his body so that the tip of Komaeda's cock is pressing right against his entrance. It feels bigger than it looks, considerably thicker than anything he's taken before. But the thought of what Jin will say, the way he'll look at Hinata's fucked-out body - he knows he can manage. "Okay?"

   Komaeda nods again, and that's all the answer Hinata needs before he sinks down, taking as much as he can until he freezes with a wince and a gasp of pain. His face is so close to Komaeda's that he can barely see the concern in his eyes through the blur of proximity, doesn't even think twice about it until one of Komaeda's hands leaves his waist and a moment later there are fingers brushing clumsily over his clit, the angle ridiculous and all wrong. Hinata supposes it's the thought that counts and he tightens his vice-grip on Komaeda's shoulders as he bares down, taking more, focusing his all on relaxing his muscles and enjoying the faint tingles of pleasure that Komaeda is managing to give him.

   It doesn't hurt so much that he worries he's bleeding, but he can't fight the way it feels distinctly wrong. Experimentally, he rocks his hips, letting out an involuntary groan of not-quite-pleasure that's drowned out by the loud, gasping whimper that's ripped from Komaeda's throat. Hinata pulls himself together and forces a smile, locking his eyes on the boy's face. His eyes are wide and almost teary, locked on where they're joined.

   "Yeah?" Hinata says, more as a reply to Komaeda's noises than anything. He pulls himself up, struggling not to _scream_ at the sudden agony that rips through him, but it doesn't matter because Komaeda's hips buck once and his eyes fall shut and, unceremoniously, he comes with a shudder and a whispered half-apology. Hinata stays still, so sensitive to the strange warmth filling him, and when Komaeda's breathing begins to even out, he cards his fingers through snow-white hair and smiles.

   "That was so fast," is all Komaeda seems able to say, his voice raw and quiet. His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, and he draws back his hands, briefly examining the fingers that had been on Hinata's clit like he doesn't know what to do with them now. "You didn't, um, finish, did you?"

   It's barely a question. "Don't worry about that," Hinata says, and Komaeda nods uncertainly, and they don't say anything more. He waits until Komaeda is soft before he eases himself up, ignoring the dull ache and twinges of pain as he re-dresses, and Komaeda re-dresses next to him.

  
-

  
   "I have something for you," Hinata says, ten minutes later when he's sitting up on Jin's desk, that same familiar position except now he's fully naked, his legs squeezed shut to hide the surprise. "Something I worked really hard to give you."

   Jin hums, leaning back in his chair. His eyes are lingering on Hinata's chest, and it sends a twinge of annoyance through him that he tries to ignore. "Do you really?"

   In answer, Hinata shifts backwards until he can spread his legs with his heels on the table, and Jin seems taken aback but Hinata doesn't miss the way his eyes grow darker, his breath quickening a little at the sight. "Just wait," he says quickly, closing his eyes to better focus on relaxing, on pushing _out_  the way he did when he was trying to take Komaeda's dick in him.

   He feels it, a dribble spilling just over the rim of his entrance, and hears Jin's breath catch.

   "Holy fuck." Hinata opens his eyes to see the headmaster staring unashamedly, and he looks down too, almost admiring the way a blob of it just stays there, shocking white against the pink of his folds. "Holy fuck," Jin says again. He brushes a thumb down Hinata's slit, easing his labia apart for a better look. "When-?"

   "About ten minutes ago," Hinata says, unable to hide the pride from his voice, and when Jin looks up at him, he's nothing short of amazed. "I'd do anything for you, you know," Hinata says before he can respond, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his lips. His words are ridiculously solemn for his pose, and he loses his legs again, crossing his arms over his chest as best as he can. "Anything."

   "Do you mean-?" Jin asks, his brows furrowed, and Hinata nods. His heart pounds a million miles an hour in his chest as Jin lets out a steady breath, nodding a couple of times himself. "You're so special," he says, eventually, gently pulling Hinata into his lap and holding him close, and Hinata cringes with the knowledge that while he feels sick and choked-up with affection, Komaeda's come must be dripping out onto Jin's work trousers, now. "So good for me."


	23. W is for Weak

   He forgets to turn off his phone, and through the journey from his classroom to Jin's office, five texts come through.

   His phone buzzes in his back pocket when Jin greets him at that heavy office door and lets him inside, and again when he sits down in his usual chair. On the desk is a neat pile of paperwork, and when he takes the pen that Jin offers, his phone buzzes again, and Jin raises an eyebrow.

   "Sorry," Hinata mumbles, removing his phone and quickly turning it off. He hasn't opened a single message, so he can't miss a glance at the number on the screen; the way they've been piling up.

   Two signatures later, Jin clears his throat, gaze still on Hinata's phone where it's laying on the desk. "Is he really troubling you?"

   Hinata scribbles his name on every dotted line Jin points out for him. "It's fine," he says, struggling to keep his voice steady. "It was his first time, Jin. I'd probably do the same thing."

   "But you aren't," Jin points out. The silence rings heavy after that, stretching on for long, cold moments.

   Hinata focuses on the papers. He doesn't need to see Jin's smirk, or his raised eyebrows, or his obvious judgement. "He'll get over it."


	24. X is for Xanax

   Medical leave starts a week before his operation, and Hinata spends most of it mooching around in the main building. He tells himself he wants to get used to the layout, to see where he'll be studying, but in a feral way, he just wants to be close to the only person who can and will reassure him.

   He understands why the reserve students talk about burning this place to the ground, sometimes. It's all so grand, modern and high ceilinged and as beautiful as the students in it - with the exception of Hinata, of course, but maybe it won't be long until that changes. He walks the grounds, lingers in the cafeteria before and after lunchtime, and ambles along the hallways, ducking his head when a student walks by.

   It's the latter action that leaves him paralyzed and confused when the passing students' footsteps stop, and all too familiar voice says his name.

   He looks up, hoping against hope that it's not who he thinks it is - but sure enough, there he is, looking taller in his fine uniform, his grey eyes cold.

   Tears spring to Hinata's eyes before a single rational thought can enter his head, and abruptly, he turns, muscles rigid, trying futilely to hold them back. He doesn't know if it's hormones or what, but these reckless bursts of emotion have been more and more frequently lately. Like his body just wants to cry and cry about everything, but especially about Komaeda.

   "You-" is the only shaky word Komaeda gets out before instinct kicks in and Hinata runs, full-on sprints down the corridor, his footfalls drowning out whatever else he was going to say. He can hear it in his head, pounding. _You're disgusting._

  _You lied to me._

_You deserve worse._

  
-

  
   Jin's office is empty and unlocked, and the first thing Hinata does after he slams the heavy door behind him is crawl under the desk, because that's where he'd go in an earthquake and this, somehow, feels so much worse. Air doesn't seem to be entering his lungs at all, no matter how loud and fast his breathing gets. He fumbles for his phone, finding Jin's number and struggling to hold steady, his hands are shaking so badly. 

   He doesn't really register what he's saying, but it must work because just a moment later Jin hangs up, and it doesn't feel like a long time before he arrives. Hinata gets up, still sobbing hysterically, and finds himself pulled into an embrace, his wet face pressed into Jin's shoulder.

   "I-I-" he attempts, but Jin shushes him, drawing back to hold him at arm's length and get a good look at his face. He's shaking all over, and he's sure he must look a mess.

   "Have a seat," is all Jin says, walking him back to the couch and easing him down. He sits there with his thighs pressed tight together, head in his hands while he tries and fails to regain control. His palms are soaked from the still-falling tears, his lungs burning.

   Jin taps him on the wrist with something cold, and he looks up unsteadily to see a bottle of water and, in Jin's open palm, a small, dusky-orange pill. "It's prescription," Jin reassures him, as he takes it between his trembling fingers and places it on his tongue. Two swigs of the water and it's gone, and he leans back, trying to find the words to describe what just happened.

   To his surprise, Jin takes one of the pills himself before he sits down, too, and they don't touch, and Hinata doesn't speak.


	25. Y is for Yasuke

   Hinata wonders, more and more as time drags on, how many people know what Hope's Peak Academy really is.

   His medical checks aren't outsourced to a hospital. They have doctors on hand, and he gets blood taken in the school nurses' office, right next to somebody with an icepack to their head, and another person who has a small stomach-ache.

   When they fit him for suits, it's in Jin's office, with him standing up on the coffee table and a tailor fluttering around him. He's told - though he doesn't believe it at first - that the operating theatre is in the school as well. That he'll never have to leave the place again. They have all the chefs, doctors, nurses, neurologists, nutritionists and analysts he'll ever need.

   Hypothetically speaking, of course.

  
-

   
   They have him stay at the school the night before to get settled, but settled is the last thing he feels. He's given a bed in the ward just off from the operating room, and Jin stays by his bedside for hours, talking and giving him little orange pills every time he gets too anxious.

   Before he leaves for the night, he gives Hinata a gift of black silk pyjamas, for his stay. The younger runs his hands all over them, the fabric soft and fragile beneath his fingertips, and if not for the Xanax, he knows he would be in tears again.

   The next morning, Jin has a meeting, so Matsuda is the one who takes him into a little side room and sits him down in the chair in the centre of it. He doesn't bother with pleasantries. It's just like the first time they spoke; he asks only rigid questions, and Hinata stumbles over his answers.

   He winces at the sharp buzzing sound behind him. He supposes, in a way, there's nobody better than Matsuda to do this for him. The boy has precision, a sharp gaze and steady hands. He lets himself relax, shoulders going slack as he feels the cold, shaking blade of the razor on his scalp, drifting in careful lines up and down until his hair is littered at his feet.

   "It'll have grown back by the time you wake up," Matsuda tells him, too matter-of-fact to be comforting. "Would you like to see?"

   Hinata laughs under his breath, and shakes his head. 

  
-

  
   His system is clean when they finally take him in.

   There are so many people, it almost feels like he's walked in on a small party with a bizarre dress code. There are green-outfitted surgeons and nurses he doesn't recognise, flitting around, talking to each other like he isn't there. Matsuda is there, standing with his hands behind his back, silent.

   Jin sits on a stool beside him, just like he did the previous night. He looks happy, and Hinata matches his smile as best he can.

   "I'll hold your hand until you fall asleep," Jin tells him, but it doesn't look like him at all. With his surgical mask, and the latex gloves - the muffled voice and plastic touch isn't him at all. Everyone in the room is a stranger.

   Hinata just closes his eyes, because this is what he wants.

   "Are you excited?" Matsuda asks him suddenly, and Hinata almost jumps, unsure whether or not he's being addressed. But Jin squeezes his hand, and he nods, wondering just what's taking so long with the anaesthetic. Out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees Matsuda smile.

   "My girlfriend would've given her left arm to see this," he says idly, and Hinata's eyes drift up to the little window of the observation room. "It's almost a shame these things are so confidential."

   "Mmm..." Hinata replies non-committally, and his hum turns to a sigh of relief when someone finally slips a mask over his face and he breathes in the sickly-sweet gas. He closes his eyes, taking deep inhales as Matsuda keeps talking to him, or maybe to Jin. He doesn't know, exactly.

   His vision goes hazy-black and the last thing he hears is the soft clink of surgical tools on the metal tray, someone's fingertip brushing across his forehead in a straight line, he thinks, but the wet they leave behind must be ink, marking the incision.

   Because this is what he wants.

 


	26. Z is for Zombie

   He dreams of Jin every day, to the point where he can't tell which visits are real and which are hazy fantasies. They don't put a calender in his recovery room. His bed is always cold, the curtains too thick to show more than the faintest traces of daylight when it's there.

   The only way to measure time is by the growth of his hair, and it must make him sensitive, because he awakens and screams every time they try to cut it until they finally give up.

  
-

   
   One day, he wakes up in a chair; the same chair Matsuda shaved his head in; the unmistakably dingy, tiny little room. There are delicate, female hands, separating his hair into sections at the top. All he can see is the grey concrete wall in front of him.

   Her voice is laced with pity, dripping with it. "What did that man do to you?"

   And the funny thing is, he can't tell if she means the sex or the surgery. 

   She clips the sections up with something, rakes her fingernails down, combing through his hair. It's past his shoulders now, falling all over his face when he tips his head forward. She pulls the stray strands back, expertly pinning and brushing until everything seems to be where she wants it.

   "The thing about these people," she tells him, and suddenly tugs on three stands, getting them weaved between her fingertips and jerking his head with the force of it. "Is that they wanted you to look presentable, but they don't know _anything_  about fashion."

   She starts twisting the strands, braiding them so tight it stings. She starts at his right temple and moves back and over, until she reaches the base of his skull and pins the end in place. She defines new plaits as she talks, hair grips between her teeth, nails occasionally scratching his scalp. "So what were you? Were you his _baby_? Did he take care of you?"

   He shakes his head as best as he can with her still styling his hair. He can barely repress a shudder.

   "Aw, then were you his boyfriend?" She sweeps some fallen hairs from his shoulders, black-suited and rigid. "Is that what he told you, while he was taking advantage of one of his first-year students, huh?"

   She pumps mousse from a bottle into her hand and runs it through the upbraided sections of his hair, and he can't see the smile on her lips but he can feel it, coming through in the stare fixed on the back of his head. He manages words this time, but only a weak, "No."

   "That's what I thought," she replies without even missing a beat. She gathers the hair and twists it around at the back of his head, sliding pin after pin into place, cold against his skin. "So what does that leave?" she muses, spraying something over her handiwork. It's thick and sour and chokes his lungs. "Oh, you _poor_  little thing. You were just a project. Weren't you? Something pretty to put on display, and then he'd never have to deal with you again."

   He doesn't cry; hasn't been able to since the surgery, but her words still put that same pressure behind his eyes and his ribs. It's everything. The way she's right, and the way she uses the past tense. It sends goosebumps all over him, like he'll never be warm again. 

   "It's a good thing I came along to help you out, Izuru," she says, ghosting fingertips over his clothed arms, making him shiver. "Or who _knows_ what could've happened to you otherwise." 


End file.
